Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. She looked up, and recognized Mr. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. It was not simply that all the rooms were rearranged and everybody dressed in unusual fashions, and all the routines of life abolished and put away: people’s tempers and emotions also seemed strangely disturbed and shifted about. Dolls.
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