She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. “I refuse. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair.
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