She passed inside and upstairs without a word. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. There was the motor accident, too. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon.
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