The chair is in the veranda. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book.
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