But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. "I could have sworn I saw him enter this passage. What is it that you wish from me? You would like to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me. Charley Pevenill was our host. She did not realize that she was offering criticisms. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. Businesswomen in pointy-toed shoes swooned coyly in his direction, tipping their noses over their glossy magazines to admire 273 him.
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