A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. Some excuse for this rapacity may perhaps be found in the fact, that five thousand pounds was paid for the purchase of the Press Yard by Mr. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her.
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