She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. Come home alone. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley.
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