She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. You don’t know what you’re saying, and I hope you never will. I am sure he would go with you. . You hurt the child. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella.
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