Then it was the woman herself who was changed. "Altogether unsuccessful, Sir," said the chief turnkey, with a look of disappointment, not unmixed with apprehension, as he approached Wild. She breathed deeply. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not. ’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. You see, it is that I begin to like you, even that you are of this disposition extremely interfering.
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