"I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. . Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. ’ ‘Exactly so. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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