It all looked hopeless, she told herself disgustedly. Surely there
were better rooms to be found in Barcelona for forty _pesetas_ a week!
Either lodgings must be very dear or else Emile Poleski had meant to
take a large commission for his trouble in finding them!
She was stiff and tired after the long journey and want of proper food,
and every trifle took upon itself huge dimensions. She was daintily
fastidious as to cleanliness, and everything seemed to her filthy
beyond belief. The universal squalor customary in Spanish life had
come as an unpleasant shock.
When she started from Paris she had conjured visions of a triumphal
entry into her new career. Now she felt rather frightened and
desperately lonely, and the horrible room appeared like a bad omen for
the future. But, she reflected, after all, things might have been
worse. She had found one friend already. Certainly he had
disagreeable manners, especially after the artificial and invariable
politeness of the Frenchmen she had met while travelling, but at least
he promised to be useful.
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