Yes, I can readily believe it. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. Nobody who cared. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested. The Frenchman was already being followed. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter.
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