He was damned if he knew what to do. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. "I will struggle no longer with destiny.
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