“It was poison—why not?” she answered. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. ’ ‘I didn’t bring him,’ Gerald returned swiftly. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “Your great success has been my joy, our joy as well as yours. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely.
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