The story of an hour
By 39c23e94, Updated
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Her sister Josephine told her in broken sentences, veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards who had been in the newspaper office when the railroad disaster was received with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed".
Louise wept once with sudden wild abandonment in her sister's arms . When the storm of grief had spent it self she went away to her room alone. She would have no one to follow her.
Louise was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines be spoke repression and even a certain strength. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching her to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been.
When Louise abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and look of terror had followed it went from her eyes.
"free, free, free!"
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. " Louise, open the door! I beg, open the door you will make yourself ill. What are you doing Louise? For heaven's sake open the door ."Go away. I am not making myself ill."
Unlock the door Louise!
Brently Mallard stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry and at Richards quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife. But Richards was too late. When the doctor came they said she had died of a heart disease of joy that kills.
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