He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. That window there…. "Well," she said, as they reached the hotel portal, "what is your advice?" "Would you follow it?" "Probably not. Thank him, not me, man. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. We aren’t worth it.
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