” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. If you can’t see as how there ain’t nothing in this barrack of a place to help me do the job, I can. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. Anna was unimpressed.
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