The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best.
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