“I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. She knew that the stairs they had to negotiate to the vestry were extremely narrow, and she had made her plans. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. “Among other things, you know, I didn’t understand quite—I didn’t understand that you were so keenly interested in this suffrage question. . There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse.
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