Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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