At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers.
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