Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience.
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