" "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. He recoiled from the sting. It'll be your turn to save mine next. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. ’ Your name alone would fill any music hall in London.
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