There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. ’ Triumph soared in Gerald’s chest. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her.
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