She put back her hood in a determined way. We all get deceived sometimes. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired.
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