Mr. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. ’ ‘Damnation!’ Gerald burst out, crossing towards her. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. I'll think no more about her. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom.
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