The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. \"I had a good time tonight. Lucy wore it every day from then on.
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