Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. I will not trust you. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. Now you will learn the result. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. His literary instincts were reviving. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat.
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