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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"Summer"

...
The grim hours of the night dragged themselves slowly by, and at last
the sky paled and dawn threw a cold blue beam into the room. She lay
in her corner staring at the dirty floor, the clothes-line hung with
decaying rags, the old woman huddled against the cold stove, and the
light gradually spreading across the wintry world, and bringing with it
a new day in which she would have to live, to choose, to act, to make
herself a place among these people--or to go back to the life she had
left. A mortal lassitude weighed on her. There were moments when she
felt that all she asked was to go on lying there unnoticed; then her
mind revolted at the thought of becoming one of the miserable herd from
which she sprang, and it seemed as though, to save her child from such
a fate, she would find strength to travel any distance, and bear any
burden life might put on her.
Vague thoughts of Nettleton flitted through her mind. She said to
herself that she would find some quiet place where she could bear her
child, and give it to decent people to keep; and then she would go out
like Julia Hawes and earn its living and hers.


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