She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She decided to call in the help of Teddy Widgett, or, failing him, of one of his sisters. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. “Just the box only.
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