I wonder if he really wants me to go home. Was it ruined?’ ‘But yes, it was entirely ruined. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Mr. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. The light would betray us.
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