‘Home?’ ‘To your family. ’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. That’s the wonder of it. She could not apply it in this instance because she was not sure the application would be correct. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. He was there concealed, waiting her return. YOU did. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
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