” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. "My lips would belie my heart were I to refuse you. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. "When I went through your trunk that first night, I discovered an envelope filled with manuscripts.
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