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249 She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
250 Hardly aware of her departed lover;
251 Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
252 'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
253 When lovely woman stoops to folly and
254 Paces about her room again, alone,
255 She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
256 And puts a record on the gramophone.
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