It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. After quarter of an hour, she followed. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative.
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