One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “It’s my fault.
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