Mr. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret.
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