” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. "Whist!" exclaimed Terence; "he elevates his glim.
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