’ She struggled. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Vorsack echoed him. " Winifred looked as if she could not indulge such a supposition for a single moment. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. “Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. " "Doubt me not," replied Thames. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared.
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