She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. Mrs. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards.
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