Montague Hill. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. ‘Precisely. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. "Adorable girl!" he cried, in the most impassioned tone, and with the most impassioned look he could command.
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