” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ” That night was the most intolerable one that Ann Veronica had ever spent. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path.
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