Section 3. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. "Ah!" exclaimed Lady Trafford, exerting all her strength. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. “There’s no one here except me. His literary instincts were reviving. The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger.
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