" "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. The evenings were dulcet and soft. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. He had seldom been more perturbed. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same.
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