She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. And the fences are down for good. ‘Never would he have gone to England. But send me word. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. Go off and live together—until we can marry.
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