The events that had initially followed in the wake of her triumph over Emile Gosse had quite confused and dazed her. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle. Least of all myself. Take me with you. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. ’ ‘Dear me. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes.
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