It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. “My mind is full of confused stuff,” he said at length. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise.
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