‘She wouldn’t tell me. " Jack was about to comply; but not liking the man's manner, he walked on. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. There was—a service. “But how is it all going to end?” said Mr. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. What news. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. Imbecile. I don’t care.
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