So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. " "Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended.
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