She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. That is what my mother used to call me.
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