"The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. She tore open the envelope and read it. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury.
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