Then she stood up and looked around the room. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. Killed is too kind a word. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. The door closed softly upon her.
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