"Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. But her heart kept on sinking. Mutual concessions!—and then to turn it around so that it suggested that an act of kindness might be interpreted as moral obloquy! Walls; queer, invisible walls that receded whenever she reached out, but that still remained between her and what she sought.
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