"Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. He kissed her again. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us.
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