“Come on in. John stared palely. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. “I have not quarrelled with her. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. I must not let you go again.
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