” For a moment she was grave. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. Mr. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. So completely! The oddest fitness! What is it made of? Texture of skin and texture of mind? Complexion and voice. A dreamy sense of content crept over him.
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