It tore her apart. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. I’m a female thing at bottom. She fled.
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