. There was absolute quiet. She had one idea, she found, very clear in her mind—that she would get a Research Scholarship, and so contrive another year in the laboratory. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. He must never refuse her anything which was within his power to grant—anything (he modified) which did not lead to his motives. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. I'll send for Wu Fang. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “This is the slavery of the veiled life.
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