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. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. She opened her mouth and inhaled water. Ruth loved him. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily.
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