Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. This helped to restore Ann Veronica’s self-command. " "We shall have a durty night on it, to a sartinty, landlord," observed an old oneeyed sailor, who sat smoking his pipe by the fire-side. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden.
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