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. . He insisted on buying this girl for two hundred mex. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. \"Yes, uh, no. ” “No,” she cried, “I will not. “The Chens must already be here. “Run in now.
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