With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon.
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