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🎮 Shaking hands with her, she had turned eastward, intending to walk to Sloane Square and there take the bus. At the corner of Oakley Street she overtook him. He was evidently a stranger to the neighbourhood, and was peering up through his glasses to see the name of the street; and Joan caught sight of his face beneath a gas lamp. It was a frightened face that looked at her out of the glass, as she stood before it taking off her hat.!

🏆 “Why is the Press always so eager for war?” mused Joan. “According to their own account, war doesn’t pay them.” “How does one know when one is serving God?” she asked after a pause, apparently rather of herself than of Joan. “It seems so difficult.”!

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