The Supper at Mr. Wood started to his feet. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. It was plain that a man of his age could only be interested for one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a little before the main event. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. .
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