"Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded.
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