Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. . Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia.
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