She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. "Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs.
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