The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. . ’ A sudden clatter of booted feet sounded in the hall beyond. My nerves were in rags. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. Warren’s Profession furtively with Hetty Widgett from the gallery of a Stage Society performance one Monday afternoon.
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