“For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me.
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