The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. There was—a service. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. Now, Sir, will you please to follow me?" Mr. Rowland's plans were quickly formed, and as quickly executed.
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