She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. Even now she was dazed. CHAPTER XXIII. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. But send me word. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. She gave up as he finished, spending himself in her mouth.
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