He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. She did this to please him. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. He's the only native I trust in these parts.
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