But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. She studied the painted names of firms and persons and enterprises on the wall, and discovered that the Women’s Bond of Freedom occupied several contiguous suites on the first floor. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed.
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