Her steps slowed. It was Doctor Ralph, formerly the partner of Doctor Stickell in the Avenue, and now with a thriving practice of his own in Wamblesmith. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. “Yes, he made them all. I may say she does not sound in the least like Mary,’ said Mrs Sindlesham bluntly. At least, I frustrated her design in calling upon him this morning.
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