"You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. You brought your husband a large fortune, your people were well known in society, your family interest I have heard was useful to him in his parliamentary career. Our ideal had fallen. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. “I suppose I should let go if I had.
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