The crowd began to separate as it fell into the theater. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. He did not particularly care. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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