The coincidence seemed almost too significant, and Lance turned into a side street, digesting that most unpleasant supposition, and conscious of a kind of emotional chilliness. It was not unlike the feeling of physical chilliness before an attack of nausea. He was on the edge of seeing life coloured green and yellow. After twenty minutes of idling in other streets he returned to the lower end of Blount Street, only to find that his Uncle Conrad’s car was still in possession of the frontage of No. 7. French was chat…
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