Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. A broken laugh followed the action. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. ‘You said it. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. "I must see him to-night. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat.
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