’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. Pause. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. And not only did these tentacular generalizations gather all the facts of natural history and comparative anatomy together, but they seemed always stretching out further and further into a world of interests that lay altogether outside their legitimate bounds. Someone was coming out of the house.
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