His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. Instantly I knew that I was going to run away that night before he returned from the neighbouring island. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation.
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