The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. 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. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. “What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. It is a matter of degree. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money. . Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice.
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