She no
longer imagined that all the people in the street were staring at her,
anxious to find faults in her appearance. She had temporarily ruined the
lives of several amiable and fairly innocent young men by refusing to
marry them. (For she was pretty, and her father cut a figure in the
town, though her mother did not.) And yet, despite the immense
accumulation of her experiences and the weight of her varied knowledge
of human nature, there was something very girlish and timidly roguish
about her as she stood on the stairs near Denry, waiting for the elder
generation to follow. The old Nellie still lived in her.
The party passed to the first floor.
And the first floor exceeded the ground floor in marvels. In each
bedroom two aluminium taps poured hot and cold water respectively into a
marble basin, and below the marble basin was a sink. No porterage of
water anywhere in the house. The water came to you, and every room
consumed its own slops. The bedsteads were of black enamelled iron and
very light. The floors were covered with linoleum, with a few rugs that
could be shaken with one hand. The walls were painted with grey enamel.
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