“You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. It was less will than education. Or had you not noticed?’ He sneered. It disgusts me that you should touch me. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill.
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