S. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. Would you like to borrow some of my clothes? I think we're about the same size.
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