He did not explain what had happened to her. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception. The thought made her exquisitely happy. “I heard your voices, and the hall is draughty. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. “In a sense—yes. Spurlock. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity.
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