A common rage flushed their faces. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. Then most horribly she was clasped about the waist from behind and lifted from the ground. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs.
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