It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. “Lady Mackinnor,” she said, “I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. ” He stepped past her to the door and closed it. But then the features changed. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Her features are the same, yet the change has written its mark into her face. .
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