’ ‘It could hardly be less so,’ said Mrs Sindlesham tartly. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. The last piece was Scheherazade. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics.
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