‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. You cannot depart hence. 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. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him.
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