She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. “I don’t want to take up your time. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago.
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