"Here, Caliban, go and fasten his padlock. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. C. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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