Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. “I don’t believe there is one. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged.
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