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. "It is Jonathan. ” Rhea whispered. "Alone?" "Not exactly, Sir. ” He came and stood on the hearthrug close to her. ” He was arrested for a moment by an indistinct picture of Veronica reading this last sentence. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. "She is saying that you, a woman, will readily understand the position in which she finds herself. ’ ‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a holster?’ ‘But yes, and they are empty.
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