She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. “Four,” Anna decided firmly. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. I'll try to fill in the gaps.
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