“These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. The young ladies in the somewhat mixed society amongst which he moved neither satisfied his taste nor appealed in any way to his affections.
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