He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. It was empty. By a sort of instinct. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. He sent me home. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant.
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