She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. ‘She may well try to go back. . ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis.
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