The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. I’m a little tired. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. “Yes, but maybe later. But those days are over—quite over. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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