It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. ” “In his present mood,” Anna remarked, “he would follow me. In another instant, the collision took place. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. Deserted by his older companion in iniquity, and instigator to crime, he did not know what might become of him; nor, as we have observed, was the sad spectacle he had just witnessed, without effect. “He’s got almost to like it. At any rate she must see me. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. ‘Do you at least know how he came to be in a position to cheat Miss Charvill, and to pass off his wife in her place?’ ‘In her place?’ There was no mistaking the boy’s ignorance of this part of the tale. 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.
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