‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. It’s artificially chance. ” “To bad rubbish. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. She laughed a little bitterly. ” She tried to plan her proceedings in detail. His smile faded.
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