human
I can't imagine, Miss Pellissier, Brendon said, leaning towards her,
gpt
Not I, she answered gaily.
human
I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. I had a vague sort of idea that this was the region where one finds apartments, so I told my cabman to drive in this direction while I sat inside his vehicle and endeavoured to form a plan of campaign. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother's letter. Then I saw Mrs. White----
gpt
No more, Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly.
human
You were booked of course. An unexpected vacancy, wasn't it? Every one comes in on unexpected vacancy.
gpt
And they go?
human
When they get the chance. It really isn't so easy to go as it seems. We have come to the conclusion, Brendon and I, that Mrs. White is psychologically gifted. She throws a sort of spell over us all. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. We simply can't get away. There's that old gentleman at the end of the table--Bullding his name is. He will tell you confidentially that he simply hates the place. Yet he's been here for six years, and he's as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. Everyone will grumble to you confidentially--Miss Ellicot, she's our swagger young lady, you know--up there, next to Miss White, she will tell you that it is so out of the world here, so far away from everyone one knows. Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he's black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. The Semitic looking young man opposite, who seems to have been committing you to memory piecemeal, will tell you that he was never so bored in all his life as he has been here. Yet he stays. They all stay!
gpt
And you yourself?
human
Oh, we are also under the spell, he declared,
gpt
Is this a fair sample of the dinner?
human
It is, if anything, a little above the average,