Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips.
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