“Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. There was a black fear in his heart. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. It wasn’t pretty. I might have told you the truth.
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