Her husband finally relented. His name is carved upon a beam up stairs. She won’t be a problem from now on. ‘Laisse-moi. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Impressionable, lonely, a deal beyond his analytical reach, the girl might let her sympathies go beyond those of the nurse.
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