5. "She wouldn't let me go. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. “She”, you say. It is like a second honeymoon. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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