She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change.
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