He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. The bridge was open. He must be tied behind the carriage. I was resolved to see you.
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