The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate.
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