It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. His glasses were gone. “Kindly explain it to me. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown.
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