The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. He brought into service all his Oriental bar-room tricks. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them.
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