" "Spare him! spare him!" cried Mrs. Manning, I do not think I love you. . Wood, popping her head through the window. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. And I am grateful to you. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. “Well?” he asked her tersely. See paragraph 1. The worst was over now. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic.
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