“I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. ’ ‘Ain’t it? Want me to give you some time with her? Not that I think she’ll tell you anything. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound.
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