There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. ’ She shrugged. He had found Spurlock. The sword, Jacques. He closed the door. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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