” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. “I should kill you. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still.
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