He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. I rarely set foot in London these days. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared.
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