The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. I have been around them for long enough. Earles watched her anxiously. So the world is choked with waste and waiting daughters.
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