The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. She kept her face downcast.
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