He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. Here and there, a building might be seen with the doors and windows driven in, and all access to it prevented by the heaps of bricks and tilesherds. Everywhere there are limitations. ’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. I can’t help it.
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