Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. What'll you be doing?" "What can I do?" asked Spurlock, raising his haggard face. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night.
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