“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. Taber did not leave all his money in the office. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged.
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