The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. “Eight, Cavendish Square. \" Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh.
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