Not to go to her is wickeder than if I had run away with my friend's wife. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense.
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