‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. I do not know if I will have to escape quickly once more. Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said.
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