Wasn't the river beautiful under the moonlight?" "We did not leave our cabins. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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