‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. This year—I’ve got it badly. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her.
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