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| | Jacob's Room - Chapter 8 - Virginia Woolf - Read Print |
 | | Jarvis, could one read them year in, year out—the unpublished works of women, written by the fireside in pale profusion, dried by the flame, for the blotting–paper’s worn to holes and the nib cleft and clotted. |
 | | The letter lay upon the hall table; Florinda coming in that night took it up with her, put it on the table as she kissed Jacob, and Jacob seeing the hand, left it there under the lamp, between the biscuit–tin and the tobacco–box. |
 | | Flanders would have flounced upon her—only it was Jacob who came first, in his dressing–gown, amiable, authoritative, beautifully healthy, like a baby after an airing, with an eye clear as running water. |
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