” She smiled faintly. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. I hate what I have to do to survive. She did not know herself. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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