A shiver slid down inside her. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. After the dance, they went to a party. ” “You are wonderful!” she murmured.
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