She pulled her hand away quickly. In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. A brisk talk sprang up between Capes and Mr. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other.
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