” She whispered. Their faces had bite marks that were hers. “Mere sensuality. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. Yes. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. I may add that the family is well known to me. White, my landlady, believes his story.
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