’ ‘We are not all of us so empty-headed, Melusine,’ pleaded Miss Froxfield. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. There was no one stirring in the flats.
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