"Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. ” Ahead of them walked a gentleman whom it was evident they must at their present pace very speedily overtake. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour.
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