Irreton. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Caution forced her to speak calmly. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands.
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