One sees that dead, vacant look steal over the rarest, finest of women's faces . . . in the very midst, it may be, of their warmest summer's day; and then one can guess at the secret of intolerable solitude that lies hid beneath the delicate laces . . .
Rebecca Harding Davis (2006). “Life in the Iron-mills: Easyread Edition”, p.11, ReadHowYouWant.com
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