She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured.
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