She shook them off of one foot. “I doubted my luck, at least. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. He was not there.
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