And Leonardo told me never to trust any man. She—She can snub him. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. She drank it obediently. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances.
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