As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. The other was helping Trodger with his operation upstairs. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. No further responsibility whatever. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. He walked in her direction. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. If you could see how it gives them souls, women who have taken things for granted, who have given themselves up altogether to pettiness and vanity. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling.
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