She opened the door to him herself. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. " The Wastrel laughed. You see, I’m selfish. "This must be prevented," he added to himself.
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