There was a hint of tears in her voice. “Indeed I shall not forget your offer. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. “Please let me drive you home. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. . ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair.
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