Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.
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