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Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. I said to myself, ‘this will come. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. He had adroitly captured her and led her away from her other guests on the pretext of feigning an interest in her charitable attitude to the newly arrived French. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. Sheppard, faintly. Norris.
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