“It was the night you left Paris. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. And I've made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. ’ At a quarter past eleven I returned here with this gentleman, Mr. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. ‘Very wise,’ commented Gerald.
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