But this was long ago. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. “She’s all right. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness.
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