The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. . I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. " "You are very good to me, Hoddy. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. Mrs. ” Michelle said.
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