All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. She gloried in it: he needed her. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that.
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