Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. No matter. “Then I suppose when I have graduated I am to come home?” “It seems the natural course—” “And do nothing?” “There are plenty of things a girl can find to do at home.
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