“It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. Around her neck was a little gold chain. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her.
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