She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. \"Thanks for coming. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming.
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