“I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. 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. ” “Out with it, then,” he cried, almost roughly.
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