Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. Here's the——" "Let me have one," cried a servant maid, running across the street, and in her haste forgetting to shut the door,—"here's the money. Terrific yells rent the air. There’s no logic in these things.
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