All her life Martha had been there. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying.
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