” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. Meanwhile, the mob outside had prodigiously increased, and had begun to exhibit some disposition to riot. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. You don't know what you have got; I do.
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