A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. The idea of your being a failure would never have occurred to me. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door.
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