Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. A nurse came hurrying up. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. ’ No Latin? And no guns or daggers, naturally. Too late. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. ‘I have no idea.
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