’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. They will be safe. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. After him! A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. "You read it, Ruth. I need you every day. ” “He was probably right,” she declared.
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