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There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. My mother really wants to meet you. "You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales.

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