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But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. “It may not be just and so forth, but, after all, it is how things are. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. ‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest.
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