Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought.
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