’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. ” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. . These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things.
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