“Why not?” He asked. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. I’m a soldier, you see. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. “Lucy, that is so sad.
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