" "Everything. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. . “Oh, I know you would stop me if you could. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. The stain was blood, but this was a stain that resulted from being up one’s elbows in blood! She smiled a nurse’s knowing smile.
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