It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. . ” “It is very nice of you to think of it,” Anna said briskly. “Not since 1582 when I left him and came to America. . Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. . Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication.
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