‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. A fortnight passed, then a month. He could not doubt it. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Wood," replied Jack, calmly. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders.
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