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. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. “That sounds interesting. " "I never doubted the latter point, I assure you, Madam," observed Mrs. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. I knew it. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself.
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