“Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. . The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence. ‘Allow me. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat.
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