His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavy Shantung silk. "Oh lord! I hope not. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Profligate women are never reclaimed. .
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