Come down with me to the Lodge directly. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered.
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