Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. It was dangerous for her to dare approaching him and she knew the tremendous risk she was taking, but a part of her demanded that he be found. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. “I am sorry.
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