Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. "We're forgetting," he said. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. "What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. “After all, how easy the descent is, even for the greatest of us.
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