Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. . I keep my finger on the pulse of things. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. ’ ‘It’s already known,’ said Mrs Sindlesham, ‘judging by the number of callers we have had these two days. ” “That is so,” Anna admitted. ‘And certainly I wish that Joan will come with us. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air.
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