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. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. God knows how you did it. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. And Doctor Ralph stood by looking considerate.
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