“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. I haven't touched the other. “My brother’s room when he comes home. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief.
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