‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment.
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