The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. He returned to attend the funeral. She ran 60 past it with melancholic dread towards the slope that led to the ocean. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. ” She smiled at him cheerfully. " "Not necessarily. Here you only waste your time. I tried. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more.
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