Contrasted with the confused movement and presences of a Fabian meeting, or the inexplicable enthusiasm behind the suffrage demand, with the speeches that were partly egotistical displays, partly artful manoeuvres, and partly incoherent cries for unsoundly formulated ends, compared with the comings and goings of audiences and supporters that were like the eddy-driven drift of paper in the street, this long, quiet, methodical chamber shone like a star seen through clouds. Whenever I feel particularly gregarious, I take the launch and run over to Copeley's and play poker for a couple of days. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. "Oh, Heavens!" cried Mrs. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter.
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