" CHAPTER XV. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. ” He replied solemnly, looking straight into her eyes. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. . Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. Then her eyes flashed. “What do you think you are doing?” He asked. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters.
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