In addition, the Fadden Dance business, all out of proportion, occupied the whole foreground of her thoughts and threw a color of rebellion over everything. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. "Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman.
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