He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. “Like him who stood on Darien I view uncharted sea Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights Before my Queen and me. Eight per cent. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. . " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack.
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