" CHAPTER XIII. It cuts. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. To die intestate was unforgiveably irresponsible. Thames Darrell. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. I wanted the magic of love. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good.
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