’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. A deep silence, however, now prevailed, broken only by the tolling of the bells of Newgate and St. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him.
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