He felt her observance and warmed to it. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. ’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing.
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