Never sent for the shirt. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. “Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is. You must say farewell to her, for I cannot.
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