Dane picked out of his dim past a dozen halting similes. The sacred silent convent was one; another was the bright country-house. He did the place no outrage to liken it to an hotel; he permitted himself on occasion to feel it suggest a club. Such images, however, but flickered and went out--they lasted only long enough to light up the difference. An hotel without noise, a club without newspapers--when he turned his face to what it was "without" the view opened wide.
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