She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. But what can we do? Here am I, fixed to respectability and this laboratory; you’re living at home.
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