He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate. How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her.
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