A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. “Is it your maid?” he asked. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked.
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