It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. When she arrived at the Palazzo, not a single sentry was aware of her presence. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. Marry, come up! I'm not so easily deluded. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. One with the appearance of a bald little gnome yawned agonizingly.
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