” Michelle replied, still haunted by the image of her friend brutally amputating a man’s finger. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. The service began. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar.
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