He held her eyes. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. She traced him by his scent.
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