Howard Taber. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping.
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