Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t.
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