The Night-Cellar. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. “At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it.
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