Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. "My friend here," said McClintock, "tells me you are looking for a job. She hugged Lucy, who had finished eating. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. "He stands before you," rejoined her son.
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