Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. ‘So it is that you could not help it. If the boy was legging it alone…. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. "Mr. She pushed. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. That's part of the bargain. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point.
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