’ ‘You’re incorrigible,’ scolded Hilary, beginning to follow. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent. The manager twisted his moustache. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too.
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