“Home, of course,” she answered. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. That’s the flat business situation. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. They must have a key. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. Because of the Dance. The day is already half over. “Besides, it is not so. She shuddered.
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