She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. She colored faintly. 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. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit.
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