A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. She felt she was bound in honor to tell the whole affair to Manning sooner or later. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. ‘Do you think I do not know? If this pig has not done so, there would be no need for me to do it. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Paintings sold off the walls. .
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