“So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. Get all ready for his reception. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. ” She felt strange confessing herself to a criminal attorney.
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