It was better even than the hymn-singing. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. She had no idea what she should do. I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets.
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