He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. ‘Ah, the tragedy. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned.
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