Then she burst into a peal of laughter. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. . ’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined.
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