“You too were deceived. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. I can’t. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain.
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