"She travelled alone; and she is the purest woman God ever permitted to inhabit the earth. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. ‘Never mind that now. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you.
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