” She stopped short, full of things un-said. 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. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. ” She stopped. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. Then her fingers moved. His face was white. His voice now had lost its ironies.
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