It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. ’ ‘People are silly. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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