There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. "Then his case is hopeless. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. ‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe.
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