Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear.
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