She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. "No. . Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling.
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