Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. ” 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. ‘Good. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. "After all our pains we were near losing him, Sir Rowland.
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