“It’s something that bothers me. Sydney sprang up. I struck him across the mouth, and across the eyes. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. He was sickeningly aroused by their hands as he slipped in and out of consciousness. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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