The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. You do not need my compliments. Sheppard let fall her basket. "Oho!" he said. " The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. It is really amusing.
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