\" Lucy said. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. He suggested they take the remains of the household to his country estate, where he could at least hunt through the winter to provide them venison and grouse. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. I hate what I have to do to survive. ‘All this gadding about. 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.
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