" "Doubt me not," replied Thames. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. ” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested. She wanted to kiss his feet.
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