She stared at him. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square.
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