‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. She thought me— filthy. He must know she’ll be at a convent. To perdition with them all. He guided himself between her legs. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. "Get about your business!" "Thames!" cried Jack, beckoning to his friend. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings.
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