You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. "Poor fellow! I'm glad he has escaped. There is no future for me here. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. Wished to see you. I am. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily.
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