She was like an angel with one wing. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. . There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. To-night we leave for Marseilles. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. I loathe this room. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed.
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