Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. He walked her home. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling.
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