She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
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