She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. “Now isn’t this nice!” that lady exclaimed. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. . He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. \" He said with a question in his voice, a question that revealed that he was intimidated, and not only that, but he had it bad.
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