The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. Caution forced her to speak calmly. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. I spent many happy days there. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy.
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