Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. She had not at first the power for concealment. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone.
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