Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. E. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. On Tuesday night, she was rather better, and I had left her for a short time, as I thought, asleep on the sofa in the little parlour of which she is so fond —" "Well," exclaimed Jack. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six.
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