But it was only six-thirty. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. ‘Nothing. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know. Hill lost a little of his truculency. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. I must leave England to-night. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. I demand it as a right.
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