Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. Hear me, adorable girl! You know not the extent of my devotion. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. Like a petulant child he snapped. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. Let us part in peace. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic.
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