He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Mr. \"The servants will hear you!\" \"I don't care! Why do you?” She cried. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. . ” She said in Lucy’s direction.
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