Above the housetops it was different. ” She said to them, raising her head to speak, her voice unsteady. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery.
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