” “It certainly was,” she admitted. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. “I trust,” he said, “that you will recognize the justice of these conditions. ” The tired woman shut her eyes tightly for a moment, and then looked with them at Ann Veronica. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. " And he raised it in his arms. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful.
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