It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. ’ She looked up again and smiled sweetly. After these dinners they would have a walk, usually to the Thames Embankment to see the two sweeps of river on either side of Waterloo Bridge; and then they would part at Westminster Bridge, perhaps, and he would go on to Waterloo. In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. When they were home, the pair headed for the Big Apple or the warmth of the Beck’s family table. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. She opened it and imbibed. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced.
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