“Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. F. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. For the sort of love-making you think about. . It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor.
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