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Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact. It has become a part of the order of my life. ’ ‘Bravo,’ applauded Lucilla, clapping her hands. "Is Thames returned from London?" "Not yet," replied the other; "but I expect him every minute. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. Widgett was a journalist and art critic, addicted to a greenish-gray tweed suit and “art” brown ties; he smoked corncob pipes in the Avenue on Sunday morning, travelled third class to London by unusual trains, and openly despised golf. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels.
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