He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress.
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