The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. ‘Imbecile. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet.
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