I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. ‘Go then. She had eaten them. It’s an instinct. As long as I live here, you stop fucking the children and you stop trying to fuck me. CHAPTER XXVII. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only.
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