So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. . They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out.
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