“The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. “Forty guineas a week. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. “You are late,” she murmured.
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