It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. In the present instance she did not want any interference; she did not want the doctor's wisdom to edge in between these two young fools and spoil the drama. Tears sprang to her eyes. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone.
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