“Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. Certainly I cannot kill you if you tell me to do so. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. I wanted it badly. And the fences are down for good.
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