"I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. ’ ‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved. “I am going to ask for your forgiveness. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. It generalized everything she put to it. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. —Strype's Stow.
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