” She spoke with a certain asperity. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. E. “Why don’t they wait?” he added. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. “That is as you will,” she said.
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