The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. ” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it. " "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear.
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