I must bless him before I die. I may say she does not sound in the least like Mary,’ said Mrs Sindlesham bluntly. ” She nodded. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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