“You know what? You’re right. “You will have some tea?” she asked. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. He was nearly wincing. The ruffian's companions took his part. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out.
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