She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. 1. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. ‘You know about that?’ ‘It was the only possible deduction.
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