Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. We men are like children. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. ’ ‘Don’t you believe it. Home!— which I never hoped to see again.
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