“Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. ‘And we shall see which of us is more quick. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. Do not waste time in vain regrets, but let us remove the body, that we may fulfil her last injunctions. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Always.
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