You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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