Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about. She was writhing to get her hands loose and found herself gasping with passionate violence, “It’s damnable!—damnable!” to the manifest disgust of the fatherly policeman on her right.
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