‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. One is always familiar with the business of one’s neighbours. “I confess it. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. The Roof and the Window. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall.
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