“Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man.
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