It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. It needs cultivating, I think. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. ‘Never would he have gone to England. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. His Dad is an electrical engineer at the same place as my dad works and his mom used to be a model, I’m not kidding.
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