Her anger died and she eyed him. Wood, who had merely absented himself to see that a public breakfast, which he had ordered at the Six Bells for all who chose to partake of it, was in readiness. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. ” She looked around for the voice around the Orchestra room, fumbling around with her books. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Spurling.
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