Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. ’ There was sense in what she said, Melusine was obliged to concede.
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