Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. She's the boss. He fixed it. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers.
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