It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. "If you arrest him, you must arrest me also.
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