. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. So she approached him with sandwiches.
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