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life of one's friends and the apparently feelingless continuation of [[strikethrough]] them [[/strikethrough]] - that is, the vivid knowledge of [[strikethrough]] them [[/strikethrough]] - is better kept hidden, for a time, anyway.  Because when one is filled with sorrow, news of ordinary, everyday doings, can only be irritating, repulsive.

My life here is not a happy one but even so 
I am getting on remarkably well, physically. I don't believe that it would be possible for one not having lived with the Cowles Sisters, to understand what the life in this house really is.  I know you are interested and I will try to make you at last partially understand what it amounts to.

Mildred is ill, that is, she