He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Mrs. Hobson, the Phys. Sheppard. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again.
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