" "To be sure you are," replied Jonathan, laughing. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. . She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting.
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