He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. “Eight, Cavendish Square. Has your ladyship any further commands?" "None whatever. I have been waiting a long time for a family like them. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate.
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