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’ Her face fell. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path.
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