So that way is closed. Threw it out. No: I must face it out. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads.
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