She calmed herself, breathing deeply. "I've lost my wager. No; I’m going to stick to the rules. Only think how compromising. Lucy followed. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin.
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