“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. One gets drawn into things. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. “All right so far,” she said to herself. " "Quite right, Sir James," said Austin. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. “I don’t know why. You're in luck to-night, widow. He talked about his driver's license, how he would soon inherit his older brother's BMW. We remember it. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. We find out no man will treat a woman fairly as man to man—no man. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again.
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