She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill.
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