A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. “I’m not a good woman. “The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself. “Well, hello there. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. . ” He came and stood on the hearthrug close to her. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. ” “Relaxation, perhaps.
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