So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. ‘Poor Gerald has been very busy about your affairs this last week. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. You love money. Don't ask any more questions. Went up to Somerset House to examine the will before he did it. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly. Treat me as an elder brother, if you like. Old Bedlam 291 IX.
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