But when she saw the car, her body filled with dread, for it gave her a bad feeling. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. Later. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English.
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