“What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. "Bess wouldn't bear a rival. "To-night you shall be my wedded wife. Do you think that I shall ever make an actress, my friend?” “I doubt it,” he answered bluntly. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art.
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