“You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. Wood; "I'll not bear it. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. She was suddenly grave. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. ” “I’m sorry.
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