” Courtlaw turned abruptly to Brendon. Spurling. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. A queer nut.
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