Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. "But, it strikes me, I've heard that Mrs. He drew a little sigh of relief. For she needed him. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. The storm burst upon them in its fury. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. “Endless. Through that she had to go.
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