” “You are going to speak to me of things which happened before we met in London?” she asked quietly. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. But she had spent nearly half of it, and had no conception of how such a sum could be made good again. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. “When are you going away?” He asked.
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