He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. ” Mr. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. Fifty sent home. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes.
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