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She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. "It is too late. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. ” He hesitated, and went off at a tangent. Every home is a little recess, a niche, out of the world of business and competition, in which women and the future shelter. He placed his chin upon the top of her head. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father.
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