Thousands of old women stumble along roads and streets, talking to themselves, gesturing vaguely with sad, skinny hands. People who see them wonder what tiny, bright pictures of the past are in their minds, what futile furious memories make their hungry hands so restless. Last week, near Toms River, N. J., someone found Cora Carpenter, a tired crone, wandering in a forest, talking to herself in a low, serious voice.
Taken to Bellevue Hospital, Manhattan, Cora Carpenter told nurses that she too had once been a nurse, that she too had been graduated...
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