She turned there and beckoned. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. At last—I told a story. ” He said. "How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. Probably a sick man's whim.
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