“It’s not for us to supplicate any more. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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