” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the train unnoticed.
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