“Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. Hope you ate light before you got here. At last in a street near the Hampstead Road she hit upon a room that had an exceptional quality of space and order, and a tall woman with a kindly face to show it. A door in this house opened upon the yard. Few approached the émigrés directly, preferring to stare covertly from behind their fans, while pretending to admire the simple elegance of Lady Bicknacre’s neo-classical refurbishments. You care for me just a little, I know. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river.
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