" "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. CHAPTER XXX. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. At last I tried a dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage. .
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