He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him.
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