That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. He proposed, he wanted to possess her! He loved her. Wild had a narrow escape lately, in that affair of Captain Darrell," observed Shotbolt. "Let me see him. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. The Wastrel did not relish this. “Am I dull?” she said.
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