There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I am saying?. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test.
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