The Story.* "Someone had asked Mary Viner as a child why she so disliked going to school, and had received the pregnant reply: ' 'Cos one does the same thing every day'; and at the age of 23 Mary was still resenting repetition. Only more so, because life had become more busily full of dreary tidyings and cleanlinesses, of washings up and washings down, of moments that smelt of yellow soap, and tea leaves and paraffin."
Early one morning at the front door of her scrawny house, Mary...
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