His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. “Larry buys the meat, makes the stuffing. Then enter Mr. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. CHAPTER XX. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. Then she went below. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella.
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