‘Come on, Hilary. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. But I’m generously ignorant of gems. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical.
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