Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. Let me go my own way towards them. So far she had the utmost difficulty in getting on to that vitally important matter.
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