“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. He threw the doctor out of the Palazzo on his rear, sending him to the insane plague-infested streets. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. Lucy’s cool. The second look told me I was wrong. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. If I’d known, there would have been a different story. I know how bad it feels. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is.
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