CHAPTER XXXII. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. ‘I am not in the least in a rage. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. ’ Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from the room.
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