. His voice had broken. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. "Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. "The nurses," she answered. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose.
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