Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. Quite ordinary.
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