Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. But she veiled her feelings.
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