Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. She felt her canines growing. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. ‘Rather would I die than fall in with such a plan. " "Do so," replied Kneebone; "but remember the door is locked. . I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. " CHAPTER XI.
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