She knew, too, she must not hesitate. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. “I hope you are going to Carey House. I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg.
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