She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. You’ll come along of me, for you’re under arrest, too. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief.
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