"But, I own, I think it is like. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “There is a secret. Shari laughed hysterically and was promptly shushed by Larry from the next room. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. ‘Nothing. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. ” She played with her hair.
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