Her unnatural calm was giving way. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs.
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