"Now, lead me to a hotel where I can get breakfast. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. “Good God!” he exclaimed. She was radiant. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly.
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