But Darrell averted his head. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. “Quite alone, sir. " "Get hence," continued Mrs. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. ” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her.
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