"What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. It could not be she who had done this. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table.
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