You’d think with as much dick as she gets that she’d cheer up. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. His smile faded. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. It rather astonished him. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions.
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