"He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. Little woman, you have been brave enough before. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. ’ Roding blinked. ’ Then she whisked from the room, hearing Lucilla utter a delighted squeal as she closed the door behind her.
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