It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. “Yeah. “I suppose you’ll come to the point soon—if there is one. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. Surely she could ignore him.
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