The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear. As far as I can, I belong to them all. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction.
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