” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable.
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