She recoiled. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her.
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