She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. However good you were to me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this intolerable. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. . Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke.
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