A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. She crooked her finger. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. She had nothing to say for herself. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together.
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