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. He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. "It's strange the antipathy he bears to Sheppard. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. By George, I forgot! McClintock said there was a typewriter in the office and that I could have it. I'm about to leave this country for ever. I had that coming. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen.
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