And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure. His eyes closed. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him.
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