The chapel was crowded to excess. Both carried packages of books and magazines. . Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. He would take her with great force. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. “I am a fool,” he said.
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