Wary they might be. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. “I don’t care a rap for remembering. A cold shiver came over her. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night.
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