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She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. A shiver slid down inside her. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. ” But after that neither ideas nor phrases had come and she had fallen thinking of the events of the day. "Oh!—to see you thus!" cried Thames, in an agony of affliction.
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