“You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. He had chosen his time well. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud.
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