“Shopman. "Go in, to be sure, simpleton," replied Mrs. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. " "Let me go," implored Mrs. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. She pushed him gently on the chest. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. .
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