The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. " "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. Luckily I’m not.
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