Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. Thankfully only the children were home, so there was no one to take active notice that she had been accompanied on her way home from school. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came.
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