Cathy Beck was outraged. "You mean you were just sorry for him?" "As I would be for any human being in pain. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. John looked at his feet bashfully. But they did what they could for her. " And then his interest would cease. You may go back, Marthe. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter.
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