She began to tremble violently. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. ‘So are you. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair.
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