“One hardly knows—all the time. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. It depresses one, you know. “Delicious!” she murmured. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. We thought of starting in half an hour’s time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on the way. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling.
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