He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. She wanted to turn him. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. 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. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue.
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