He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. “I knew you would begin to see how it all falls into place together. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. Twenty-one, twenty-two. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. ” She trailed off as the smell hit her nose. His spirits began to rise.
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