Then her fingers moved. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ’ It’s a duplicate of the French one. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. ‘Allow me. On Thursday we embark for South America. "No, no!" With a gesture, fierce and intolerant, she seized the Bible and thrust it out of sight, into the drawer. She had not at first the power for concealment. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. He turned his back on that temptation. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. It was locked.
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