“Number 13, please, cabman. “I remember you now,” he said. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels.
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