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Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. ’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. She is Bohemian to the fingertips. Drink, and no sustaining food. The completest capitulation would not wipe out that trouble. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis.
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