Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Those were dreams. But if I were you, I shouldn't warn Spurlock. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr.
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