CHAPTER XX. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. And from that they came back by way of the Kreutzer Sonata and Resurrection to Tolstoy again. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily.
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