I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. ‘You do not think it is enough English. You are you. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. She was recalling the circumstances under which she had engaged herself to Manning, and trying to understand a curious development of the quality of this relationship.
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