‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you. ’ ‘Dear me. ” “There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?” “No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. 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. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers.
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