I shall count it a privilege. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. Then instantly she got out of bed and proceeded to dress.
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