She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. She turned with an effort. “Stop! Don’t put your face there. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. “It’s too bad. “There is no time for that. She got up and unlocked the door. Go, and let him in. But suppose I go?” “Now, Veronica! No, no. There were lines in her face that age had not put there.
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