Wagstaff. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business. The woman shrugged her shoulders. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust.
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