“You don’t waste any time. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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