He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him. ‘Oh, famous. It surprises you. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. Humph. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse.
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