"Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. "Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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