Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. I expect company. " "Never!" cried Mrs. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. "Sold a good many, though. And if I don’t, I go mad. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger.
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