Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. “Please come by. " "Are you Mr. Walking to the station with him. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. They stopped talking, except to each other. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. I can bear anything but suspense.
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