He was walking down along the matting and he saw the door before him. Yet as he prowled in quest of that call, his senses, stultified only by his desire, would note keenly all that wounded or shamed them; his eyes, a ring of porter froth on a clothless table or a photograph of two soldiers standing to attention or a gaudy playbill; his ears, the drawling jargon of greeting: --Hello, Bertie, any good in your mind? --Is that you, pigeon? --Number ten. He had given exactly the account of himself that permitted least of my going behind it, and it was only with the effect of confirming my acceptance of it that, as I presently glanced about the room, I could say-- "Then you didn't undress at all?" He fairly glittered in the gloom. For one truth must rule all we think and all we do.
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