‘She may well try to go back. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. ‘This we will leave. “See you. I recommend the ‘Unusual. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. She is no longer mine; she is yours. One called her very distinctly “My dear!” Two secretarial posts did indeed seem to offer themselves in which, at least, there was no specific exclusion of womanhood; one was under a Radical Member of Parliament, and the other under a Harley Street doctor, and both men declined her proffered services with the utmost civility and admiration and terror. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather.
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