He recoiled from the sting. Mike chimed in. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters.
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