“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. ‘You cannot be always with me. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. You have grown into my life. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. In an instant, she turned on him. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door. She was guided into the dock and prompted by a helpful police inspector. Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. I should have gone mad without it. Kneebone's," remarked Austin, rising to fasten the door.
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