But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. “It is unimportant,” she said. She looked around her. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. Drink, and no sustaining food. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly.
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