You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. She snatched about in her mind. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover.
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