He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. The Chapel 401 XX. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder.
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