When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. "Well, well; I have given out of my wisdom. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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