The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. ” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. Amongst others who attended the sad ceremony was Mr. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. “I believe it is. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation.
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