Something seemed awry. “I’ve gotta go. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour.
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