ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood.
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