Night and day have been alike to me. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him.
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