There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. Keep your eye upon the lad. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick.
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