‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. She could not bear the shame of it. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. "The men. \"Junior prom is in two and a half weeks. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market.
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