” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. "It is your son. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. Show him no quarter, Poll. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. "Come away!" he cried, with the roar of a demon. The door leaned inward. ’ A sudden clatter of booted feet sounded in the hall beyond. The rest of his attire was nondescript.
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