Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. She let out a delighted laugh. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. It must have cut him. I do like to see old friends back here. " "And you my warning," retorted Wild. “She can’t. Don't be afraid. "So endeth the first lesson," he said.
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