The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive.
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