’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. A maidservant held the front door open. With a little more meat on him, he would be handsome. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. I'll wait for you down here. It’s so different from what one has been led to expect.
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