—Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. Hill. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance.
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