” “I haven’t told any one the amount,” he went on. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun.
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