‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. He's a nice boy, a good student. ‘Obstinate fool!’ She saw Gosse raise a hand, and dug into her nun’s habit for the knife she had not thought to need. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane.
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