And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. " "It matters not. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. ” She said in Lucy’s direction. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. .
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