It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. "What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. ’ ‘People are silly. The evenings were dulcet and soft. ” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd.
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