He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. ‘Cover her, men.
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