He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. “You fill me with happiness, John. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. She knew that babies came from the womb; her womb had fallen out with her baby.
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