He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. The chance it is the same for both. Mr. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet.
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