Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. She was nearly dead. I kicked the living shit out of him. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. “It’s okay. He took the first step toward the stairs, and met the restraining hand of McClintock. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more.
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