Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. ” “You have not seen the evening paper?” “No. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. Pioneers all of them. “Come to my rooms and have a drink. G. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted.
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