We went to the Embassy. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. She continued to fan herself. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons.
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