White, my landlady, believes his story. "Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. Sweatshirts and sweatpants were in for a while but they’re out now. Lead, worth nothing at all until Hoddy picked them up; then they became full of magic. You are different from all the world for me. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. “Call it warning, if you like. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. I knew it. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means.
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