“Bother it all!” she swore. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. They are long gone. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. He donned his winter coat. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life.
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