‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. 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.
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