“And think of the ordinary wives and mothers, with their anxiety, their limitations, their swarms of children!” Mr. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. Mrs. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions.
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