She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. CHAPTER XII. Her voice was weak and flat. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully.
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