She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Just as he was preparing to follow, the wherry containing Rowland and his men, which had drifted in their wake, was dashed against his boat. ’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. As sure as he is now living, I'll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning. I don’t want to bother you, of course. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. ” Mr.
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