“Eight, Cavendish Square. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. "To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death.
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