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. He glanced up. ’ He threw one arm across his own chest and clapped himself on the shoulder. . You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. "What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. CHAPTER XXVII. That window there….
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