She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. But his daughter might well have a claim. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh.
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