’ ‘Glad you’re so sanguine,’ interrupted Captain Roding. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. “Excuse me a moment. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. “I did it for love of you,” he said. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners.
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