He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. Don’t be frightened, dear. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. The weather harmonized with their feelings. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. . In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice.
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