” “And biology was beginning to bore me a bit. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. She could not apply it in this instance because she was not sure the application would be correct. “What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked.
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