” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. "Kiss me. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that.
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