He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. 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. " "Yon ask impossibilities," replied Jonathan, sullenly. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities.
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