Half after six. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. CHAPTER XIX. You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. Tomorrow, I shall carry you before Justice Walters, who'll take your information; and I've no doubt but Thames Darrell will be fully committed. " "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.
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