Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. “Rather darker than most of them. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. So, adroitly and patiently, he pulled Ruth apart; that is, he plucked forth a little secret here, another there, until he had quite a substantial array. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. .
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