Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head.
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