‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. You are not going to that infidel Russell’s classes. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. Hopefully.
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