I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. The hurricane had now reached its climax. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. After these dinners they would have a walk, usually to the Thames Embankment to see the two sweeps of river on either side of Waterloo Bridge; and then they would part at Westminster Bridge, perhaps, and he would go on to Waterloo. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over.
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