\"Is there something desperately wrong with your house?\" \"There is nothing wrong with our house. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed.
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