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An independent woman living in a London boarding house at the dawn of the twentieth century becomes involved with a fellow lodger from Russia.

Page 128 of 284
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III

“Your sisters are well? Ah I must tell you,” his voice boomed confidently ahead into the darkness; “while I waited I have seen two of your doctors.”

“They are not doctors.”

“I had an immensely good impression. I find them both most fine English types.”

“Hm; they’re absolutely English.” She saw them coming out, singly, preoccupied, into their street. English. He standing under his lamp, a ramshackle foreigner whom they might have regarded with suspicion, taking them in with a flash of his prepared experienced brown eye.

“Abso-lutully. This unmistakable expression of humanity and fine sympathetic intelligence. Ah, it is fine.”

“I know . But they have very simple minds, they quote their opinions.”

“I do not say that you will find in the best English types a striking originality of mentality ” he exclaimed reproachfully. Her attention pounced unwillingly upon the promised explanation of her own impressions, tired in

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