The woman shrugged her shoulders. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. ‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. " "He'll have hard work to do it by that time, father," remonstrated Thames; "you'd better let me help him. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him.
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