’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. It was impossible. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. ‘While we’re on the subject of age, it may be relevant to your claim to this house. But nobody drinks on my island unless I offer it, which is seldom. " "I can't! I can't—not now!" "Bat!—can't you see that she's the kind who would understand and forgive? She loves you. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision.
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