They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. This whole affair is truly my fault. “Solitary walks?” “That’s the point of them.
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