The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. He never finished his sentence. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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