Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. " "I, Sir!—I swear——" "Tush!" interrupted Jonathan, harshly. “Look round the table,” she said. " "Queer birds. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.
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