Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. I can't help looking at you frequently. She chuckled. He waited. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. I’ve wanted you—always. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal.
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