The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. I do—with all my heart. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. Her prevailing effect was one of quiet and complete assurance, as though she knew all about everything, and was only restrained by her instinctive delicacy from telling what she knew. A door in this house opened upon the yard. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten.
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