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They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. "It's a great world," was the manager's greeting. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. ToC Saint Giles's Round-house was an old detached fabric, standing in an angle of Kendrick Yard. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. "I shall value it highly, and will promise never to part with it.
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