” They returned to the Beck house and he walked her to the front door. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what.
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