’ ‘She once more,’ came in disgust from the girl on the bed. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance.
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