And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. ‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse.
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