He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. “But—your people!” she gasped. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. She could not help herself. Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green. Wood.
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