I've my own reasons for disliking this job. The doctor frowned. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. He said nothing. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. He got up brusquely. ’ ‘I do not marry a man who makes me a threat like this,’ she flashed.
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