‘I am not a fool. Wood resounded from below. Then he threw the letter at me. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. There was a third lady among the younger set. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them.
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