She began to weep in long, aching sobs. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. Then the inner door opened abruptly. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew.
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