’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. Every one else does. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled.
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