“All the time he is shouting and muttering. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors.
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