“Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. He had been baptized there. He got up brusquely. You see, I’m separated from my wife. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. McClintock does it; and he knows why. His hands reached under her skirt.
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