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” Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. ” She spat in his face. ” There was a long silence. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. His face fell. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Be a sport, and pile it all on me!" He went to bed. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. He had, for the most part, been correct.
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