“You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. "Is it poison?" she asked. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. ” “I thought Mr. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon.
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