She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault.
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