Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. “There are policemen—and buses. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. She hoped that Shari would not be too brokenhearted about her disappearance.
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