“I can tell you are thinking about it. You must let me take you to things—to meetings and things, to conferences and talks. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. She could not see clearly. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Now let us forget it.
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