She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. Her face expressed nothing. That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. She replied softly.
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