CHAPTER XIII. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. “Experte credo. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. ” “I sent a telegram to say I was all right. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her.
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