This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. I have only just left Wych Street. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. She became aware of his presence as she had never been aware of any human being in her life before. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. "The gen'l'man'll be here directly. This was good.
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