Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. She drew her naked arms around herself. ***** Coconuts grew perpetually. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. “Thank you. “Thank you,” she said coolly. He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. “He ran some Austrian fellow off. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages.
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