The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. A paralyzing horror was upon her. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. God had never answered any of her prayers. “Will you help me?” he asked. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait.
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