“Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers.
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