"When I went through your trunk that first night, I discovered an envelope filled with manuscripts. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. ” “Your sister,” he answered, “did me the honour of dining with me last night. I’m starving. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. Smith's melody had subsided.
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