"We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. “And now let us leave the men alone and talk about ourselves. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. "Another moment, and it'll be too late. . As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture. Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face.
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