What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. Her place was not filled; she had been simply noted as absent, and she did a comforting day of admirable dissection upon the tortoise. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. From the beginning. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves.
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