She could not feel her own body. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. They tried to read illustrated papers in an unconcerned manner and with forced attention, lest they should catch the leaping exultation in each other’s eyes. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. I know faces. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released.
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