“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. . “Turned out to be an impostor, too. She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. ” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. I was to blame to carry the matter so far.
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