‘We?’ Gerald smiled. Sheppard, falling on her knees. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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