She held up the lamp. She regarded the young man coldly. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. It does not matter to him either way. The day is already half over. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume.
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