The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. So far the thing was acceptable enough. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. Saviour's Stairs. "I have sworn to see him hanged," he said, "and nothing shall keep me away— nothing, by——. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again.
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