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But he reckoned without his host. Witness Browning. The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. He looked the boy over with interest. Above her head was an aura of white fire. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears.
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