Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. “Where am I?” he muttered. The key is in my trousers. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him.
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