She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. " "But, goodness me, the hotel will take care of him! Why not? They sold him the poison. " "Cannot?" echoed Jack, a slight smile crossing his features. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating.
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