Milky sunlight spilled on the floor. Part of her felt like laughing insanely at how badly she had been duped. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. We’re closer than you think. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. Certainly I cannot kill you if you tell me to do so. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall.
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