. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Come in! Come in, do. "A miserly old woman. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. “I’m rather a persistent person. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book.
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