He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. ’ Melusine giggled. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. It’s to do with adolescence. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago.
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