CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. Still, they bob up occasionally. But his hand was withheld by Thames. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. “Do you know, I have been wondering what had become of you,” she said. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. Leave the means to me.
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