That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. He saw that she was tense. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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