In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. Tell me where the fellow Hill took you for this marriage ceremony. And then I'll pay off old scores. Then he paused. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. The loneliness of the place somewhat depressed her.
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