There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. But at least it gave her more time. . I am your servitor.
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