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. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. It might prove rewarding.
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