Mrs. Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. Most of you Americans pattern all Chinese upon those who fill a little corner in New York. It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. Try and let him never regret it. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. “It was great, Shari!” She replied the stars still in her eyes. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. Trust you. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house.
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