It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. “I want to make love for the first time tonight. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. I will endeavour. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone.
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