"Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon. And you’re as clean as fire. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. He's coming. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door.
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