She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. It was after all a momentary affair. " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels. "Quick. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story.
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