He had been expecting me. He’d been waiting for me. He wondered (because I was ten minutes late) if I’d had any trouble finding the house. He asked me to clean my shoes on the rug in the hall. I did as he asked, vigorously shuffling my shoes across the rough rug. He asked to see the bottom of my shoes. Slightly humiliated, but desperately in need of a place to live, I held on to the banister at the bottom of the stairs so that I could raise each shoe for his close inspection. He then asked me to wipe my shoes again.
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