“The one who used to live at Lyndmore. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. ’ ‘Ah, that is easy,’ she began, laughing. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. She’s as stubborn as the proverbial mule, and—’ with a sigh that felt wrenched out of him ‘—utterly captivating. She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces.
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