“It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. 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. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own.
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