He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. Suddenly he stopped short. I’m not Gerald, remember. Stanley. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin.
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