By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. ’ ‘Ah, so that’s where Valade comes in,’ nodded Lucy. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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