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. He stood still, almost breathless. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. You mustn't go by what you read so much as by what you see and hear. He laughed. I’ll protect you!” He cried. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed.
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