Consternation gripped him. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river.
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