” “I wish you would use my Christian name,” he said. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. “Mr. ” Lucy commented. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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