She did not know herself. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. Her eyes flashed. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. She stood without motion and without strength. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor.
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