The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. ’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. . Wasting no time, he crossed straight to the shutters and opened them. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. Returning in moments, Mr. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. A species of vertigo seized him. ” There was a moment’s silence. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets.
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