Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. His head turned sideways towards the noise, his brows scowling. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger.
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