Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. "Leave the room instantly, sirrah!" rejoined the lady, bouncing up, and giving him a slap on the cheek that made his eyes flash fire. Having seen him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed the street. You must live for me.
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