He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. "You're mistaken, Winny. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. He remembered it suddenly. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative.
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