He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. That had shut him up for a while. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured.
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