" "I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr. . The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. Here he was almost stunned by the deafening clamour resounding on all sides. It was drafty and cold most of the time, but she found that she was not nearly as sensitive to the cold as long as he was 99 there to warm her up. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch.
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