The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. ” And while he talked and watched her as he talked, she answered, and behind her listening watched and thought about him. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead.
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