Goopes when at home dressed simply in a pajama-shaped suit of canvas sacking tied with brown ribbons, while his wife wore a purple djibbah with a richly embroidered yoke. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. He smiled. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. He agreed it was disgraceful. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’ ‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. Daybreak found her winding her painful way along the Harrow Road; and, in order to shorten the distance as much as possible, she took the nearest cut, and struck into the meadows on the right. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. But that possibility had been anticipated. What happened at Dollis Hill.
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