From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. In Old Palace Yard everybody ran. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. With this person—who was no other than Mr. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her.
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