E. Lucy looked about confusedly. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre.
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