She was too late. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. “Go to London,” said Ann Veronica.
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