Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. Good-looking girl. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. He was so seldom wrong.
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