Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. You wanted to play a lone hand. ’ ‘Nonsense. E. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.
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