Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. They were so good to me. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. It’s all right.
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