“Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss you. Around her neck was a little gold chain. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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