’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. I thought that I was marrying Meysey Hill, not that creature. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. And I have no more the pistol. E.
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