“It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. So far it had been plain sailing, and it had seemed fairly evident to go on: “I find it very difficult to answer your letter. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings.
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