‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. The tears flowed faster. ” Courtlaw refused brusquely, almost rudely. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears. “I want to be your friend,” he said. .
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