A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. Spurling, drily. Celeste he knew. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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