A fierce struggle ensued. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. I have never loved you.
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