and Mrs. Her confession was still unmade. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. There was a confused impression of livery carriages and whips with white favors, people fussily wanting other people to get in before them, and then the church. F. Take your half loaf with the others.
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