She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. She had killed him. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. Vite, I pray you.
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