” He smiled and buzzed her in to the glass doors, which opened by an unseen electronic hand. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. “What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked.
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