At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. “I will tell you something if you like. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. ” He got up and went to the guest room door and locked it. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations.
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