Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. “Quite right,” she said. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. Mr. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing.
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