And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. ’ ‘That,’ said Gosse, ‘is a matter of opinion. After these dinners they would have a walk, usually to the Thames Embankment to see the two sweeps of river on either side of Waterloo Bridge; and then they would part at Westminster Bridge, perhaps, and he would go on to Waterloo. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. Then she would be dead, and that was no use.
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