There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. We did not know where to send … in case you died. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. ’ ‘So that was it. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake.
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