He did not speak for a moment. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. And the fences are down for good. They had not to tarry long. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years.
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