She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. But one of these days everything will click back into place. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. He saluted awkwardly. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. Spurling. ’ Her lashes fluttered.
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