She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. Murder had become nothing to her. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. She was the first to recover herself. She had warned him. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. How came you to know it? Have you heard the name before?" "I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. ” Sebastian said, though she swore she detected the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. .
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