‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. It stunned her. His name was Sebastianus. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment.
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