Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. . “Yes. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. Last night there had been no time. ‘But the fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to threaten to kill me, and I— God help me!—should not have kissed you at all. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Fire; she was full of it.
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