To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. It was drafty and cold most of the time, but she found that she was not nearly as sensitive to the cold as long as he was 99 there to warm her up. "Would you rather be alone?" "No.
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