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Voynich, E. L. (Ethel Lillian), 1864-1960

"The Gadfly"

Good-night!"
He held out his hand, but she drew back with
a quick gesture of refusal.
"I don't see why you want to shake hands with
his mistress."
"As you like, of course," he began in embarrassment.
She stamped her foot on the ground. "I hate
you!" she cried, turning on him with eyes like
glowing coals. "I hate you all! You come here
talking politics to him; and he lets you sit up the
night with him and give him things to stop the
pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him through
the door! What is he to you? What right have
you to come and steal him away from me? I hate
you! I hate you! I HATE you!"
She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting
back into the garden, slammed the gate in his face.
"Good Heavens!" said Martini to himself, as he
walked down the lane. "That girl is actually
in love with him! Of all the extraordinary
things----"

CHAPTER VIII.
THE Gadfly's recovery was rapid. One afternoon
in the following week Riccardo found him
lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown,
chatting with Martini and Galli.


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