The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. ’ ‘You are perfectly correct,’ agreed Gerald at once. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. Just as I might have killed another, if he had come out. ’ Gerald smiled. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. "You've perjured yourself. Yet she held her tongue.
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