‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. Lucy kissed him on the cheek. "An audience might have frightened the birds. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. "The natives have foolish ways of saying things.
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