One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. It’s—Mrs.
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