What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. She knew she was a monster and so did they. “I did it for love of you,” he said. I am bothered. He dropped the key on the counterpane. " "On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!" replied Jack, passionately.
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