Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. " "He'll scarcely need a plaister," replied Mrs. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil.
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