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CHAPTER XXIV. Mr. Then for a time she sat very still. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. He told her something about music, the great world outside.
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