‘To see Charvill. ’ ‘Of course you weren’t there,’ snapped Hilary. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. He did not leave much of an 17 impression. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be.
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