“But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. I’m a desperate young woman. I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. Winifred, you are deceived in me. There is a new life, different from the old life of dependence, possible.
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