It was red and chapped. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. How dreary it all looks. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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