‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. I loathe this room. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head.
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