You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. “It is a hateful story. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. Martha had been more to her than that. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace.
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