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Wood fared still worse. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. It is like some accident. Ann Veronica was by this time quite shocked at her own thoughts, and yet they would go on with their freaks. Sheppard, eagerly. Occasionally he relit his pipe. I too can see it. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. At no time did she feel bodily or mental fatigue.
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