She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. He looked about for his hat, and put it on. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. Get on with it, then. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits.
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