She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. You're alone, too, child. She nodded. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. Wait a second. Mrs. I can't invent; the thing won't come. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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