” She assented, smiling. My heart fails me. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. Nigel Ennison was he. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. She cursed herself for a fool.
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