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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"Summer"

.. No.... Well, just lay back a minute then.... There's nothing to
be done just yet; but in about a month, if you'll step round again... I
could take you right into my own house for two or three days, and there
wouldn't be a mite of trouble. Mercy me! The next time you'll know
better'n to fret like this...."
Charity gazed at her with widening eyes. This woman with the false hair,
the false teeth, the false murderous smile--what was she offering her
but immunity from some unthinkable crime? Charity, till then, had
been conscious only of a vague self-disgust and a frightening physical
distress; now, of a sudden, there came to her the grave surprise of
motherhood. She had come to this dreadful place because she knew of no
other way of making sure that she was not mistaken about her state;
and the woman had taken her for a miserable creature like Julia.... The
thought was so horrible that she sprang up, white and shaking, one of
her great rushes of anger sweeping over her.
Dr. Merkle, still smiling, also rose.


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