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. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. It must have been impossible to see me through that much rain. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. One gets a lot more fun married. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling.
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