Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. There is Lady Arlingford’s reception to-night, ten till twelve, and the Hatton House ball, marked with a cross, sir, important. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. “There is my aunt,” she said.
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