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"But why not telephone?" | Mary Datchet | the situation at her leisure.<|quote|>"But why not telephone?"</|quote|>she said. Katharine immediately dropped | as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure.<|quote|>"But why not telephone?"</|quote|>she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; | "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure.<|quote|>"But why not telephone?"</|quote|>she said. Katharine immediately d... | go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He wen... | her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard... | in giving her a goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her e... | It was proof of the clearness with which she saw him, that she started forward as this possibility occurred to her, and almost raised her hand to beckon to a cab. No; he was too proud to come again; he rejected the desire and walked on and on, on and on If only she could read the names of those visionary streets down w... | front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "H... | Night And Day |
she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, | No speaker | leisure. "But why not telephone?"<|quote|>she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming,</|quote|>"Of course! Why didn t | in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?"<|quote|>she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming,</|quote|>"Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she | will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?"<|quote|>she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding... | t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Ch... | matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard, Mount Ararat Road, High... | goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance... | the clearness with which she saw him, that she started forward as this possibility occurred to her, and almost raised her hand to beckon to a cab. No; he was too proud to come again; he rejected the desire and walked on and on, on and on If only she could read the names of those visionary streets down which he passed! ... | see whether their eyes rested on her for a moment longer than was natural, or with any curiosity. But having smoothed out her gloves, and done what she could to look as usual, she forgot spectators, and was once more given up to her desperate desire to find Ralph Denham. It was a desire now wild, irrational, unexplaine... | Night And Day |
"Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" | Katharine Hilbery | strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming,<|quote|>"Of course! Why didn t I think of that!"</|quote|>she seized the telephone receiver | that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming,<|quote|>"Of course! Why didn t I think of that!"</|quote|>she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary | meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming,<|quote|>"Of course! Why didn ... | turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. ... | t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard, Mount Ararat Road, Highgate," Mary said, speaking slowly and rather strangely. "Oh, I remember now!" Katharine exclaimed, with... | a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance Mary was not at home; a charwoman opened the door. All Katharine could do was to a... | her, and almost raised her hand to beckon to a cab. No; he was too proud to come again; he rejected the desire and walked on and on, on and on If only she could read the names of those visionary streets down which he passed! But her imagination betrayed her at this point, or mocked her with a sense of their strangeness... | exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance Mary was not at home; a charwoman opened the door. All Katharine could do was to accept the invitation to wait. She waited for, perhaps, fifteen mi... | Night And Day |
she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she list... | No speaker | t I think of that!"<|quote|>she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pict... | exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!"<|quote|>she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, wh... | no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!"<|quote|>she seized the telephone... | "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took i... | know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard, Mount Ararat Road, Highgate," Mary said, speaking slowly and rather strangely. "Oh, I remember now!" Katharine exclaimed, with irritation at her own stupidity. "I s... | goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance Mary was not at home; a charwoman opened the door. All Katharine could do was to accept the invitation to wait. She waited fo... | a cab. No; he was too proud to come again; he rejected the desire and walked on and on, on and on If only she could read the names of those visionary streets down which he passed! But her imagination betrayed her at this point, or mocked her with a sense of their strangeness, darkness, and distance. Indeed, instead of ... | object. She relaxed her grasp; she looked anxiously at the faces of the passers-by to see whether their eyes rested on her for a moment longer than was natural, or with any curiosity. But having smoothed out her gloves, and done what she could to look as usual, she forgot spectators, and was once more given up to her d... | Night And Day |
"Has Mr. Denham called?" | Katharine Hilbery | and then established her identity.<|quote|>"Has Mr. Denham called?"</|quote|>"Yes, miss." "Did he ask | intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity.<|quote|>"Has Mr. Denham called?"</|quote|>"Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said | room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity.<|quote|... | at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katha... | seemed about to go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached ... | pacing from one end of the room to the other without intermission. When she heard Mary s key in the door she paused in front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without prefac... | her mind with the vast extent of London and the impossibility of finding any single figure that wandered off this way and that way, turned to the right and to the left, chose that dingy little back street where the children were playing in the road, and so She roused herself impatiently. She walked rapidly along Holbor... | surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with... | Night And Day |
"Did he ask for me?" | Katharine Hilbery | Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss."<|quote|>"Did he ask for me?"</|quote|>"Yes. We said you were | then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss."<|quote|>"Did he ask for me?"</|quote|>"Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave | all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss."<|quote|>"D... | telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the s... | won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me a... | room to the other without intermission. When she heard Mary s key in the door she paused in front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surpri... | of London and the impossibility of finding any single figure that wandered off this way and that way, turned to the right and to the left, chose that dingy little back street where the children were playing in the road, and so She roused herself impatiently. She walked rapidly along Holborn. Soon she turned and walked ... | a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard, Mount Ararat Road, Highgate," Mary said, speaking slowly and rather strangely. "Oh, I remember now!" Katharine exclaimed, with irritation at her own stupidity. "I suppose it wouldn t take twenty minutes to driv... | Night And Day |
"Did he leave any message?" | Katharine Hilbery | said you were out, miss."<|quote|>"Did he leave any message?"</|quote|>"No. He went away. About | ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss."<|quote|>"Did he leave any message?"</|quote|>"No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine | her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss."<|quote|>"Did he leave any... | strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounti... | hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will h... | in the door she paused in front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as i... | off this way and that way, turned to the right and to the left, chose that dingy little back street where the children were playing in the road, and so She roused herself impatiently. She walked rapidly along Holborn. Soon she turned and walked as rapidly in the other direction. This indecision was not merely odious, b... | go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He wen... | Night And Day |
Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: | No speaker | About twenty minutes ago, miss."<|quote|>Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone:</|quote|>"Mary." Mary was taking off | message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss."<|quote|>Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone:</|quote|>"Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things ... | pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss."<|quote|>Katharine h... | she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she list... | "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took i... | standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, think... | chose that dingy little back street where the children were playing in the road, and so She roused herself impatiently. She walked rapidly along Holborn. Soon she turned and walked as rapidly in the other direction. This indecision was not merely odious, but had something that alarmed her about it, as she had been alar... | her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He wi... | Night And Day |
"Mary." | Katharine Hilbery | a harsh and peremptory tone:<|quote|>"Mary."</|quote|>Mary was taking off her | absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone:<|quote|>"Mary."</|quote|>Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. | miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone:<|quote|>"Mary."</|quote|>Mary was takin... | in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any mess... | me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of... | brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don... | direction. This indecision was not merely odious, but had something that alarmed her about it, as she had been alarmed slightly once or twice already that day; she felt unable to cope with the strength of her own desires. To a person controlled by habit, there was humiliation as well as alarm in this sudden release of ... | importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, f... | Night And Day |
Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. | No speaker | harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary."<|quote|>Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her.</|quote|>"Yes," she said, "I shan | Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary."<|quote|>Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her.</|quote|>"Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But | "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary."<|quote|>Mary was taking off her outdoo... | her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message... | at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of co... | these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light ... | This indecision was not merely odious, but had something that alarmed her about it, as she had been alarmed slightly once or twice already that day; she felt unable to cope with the strength of her own desires. To a person controlled by habit, there was humiliation as well as alarm in this sudden release of what appear... | irritation at her own stupidity. "I suppose it wouldn t take twenty minutes to drive there?" She gathered up her purse and gloves and seemed about to go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is h... | Night And Day |
"Yes," | Mary Datchet | She heard Katharine call her.<|quote|>"Yes,"</|quote|>she said, "I shan t | outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her.<|quote|>"Yes,"</|quote|>she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the | hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her.<|quote|>"Yes,"</|quote|>she said, "I shan t... | and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiv... | message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver a... | yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holdi... | she had been alarmed slightly once or twice already that day; she felt unable to cope with the strength of her own desires. To a person controlled by habit, there was humiliation as well as alarm in this sudden release of what appeared to be a very powerful as well as an unreasonable force. An aching in the muscles of ... | She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard, Mount Ararat Road, Highgate," Mary said, speaking slowly and rather strangely. "Oh, I remember now!" Katharine exclaimed, with irritation at her own stupidity. "I suppose it wouldn t take twenty... | Night And Day |
she said, | No speaker | heard Katharine call her. "Yes,"<|quote|>she said,</|quote|>"I shan t be a | things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes,"<|quote|>she said,</|quote|>"I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged | up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes,"<|quote|>she said,</|quote|>"I shan t be a... | the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. ... | to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave ... | she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a p... | had been alarmed slightly once or twice already that day; she felt unable to cope with the strength of her own desires. To a person controlled by habit, there was humiliation as well as alarm in this sudden release of what appeared to be a very powerful as well as an unreasonable force. An aching in the muscles of her ... | envelope. She waited with an imperious expression. "The Apple Orchard, Mount Ararat Road, Highgate," Mary said, speaking slowly and rather strangely. "Oh, I remember now!" Katharine exclaimed, with irritation at her own stupidity. "I suppose it wouldn t take twenty minutes to drive there?" She gathered up her purse and... | Night And Day |
"I shan t be a moment." | Mary Datchet | call her. "Yes," she said,<|quote|>"I shan t be a moment."</|quote|>But the moment prolonged itself, | the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said,<|quote|>"I shan t be a moment."</|quote|>But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason | receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said,<|quote|>"I shan t be a moment."</|quot... | she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked ... | So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. ... | thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and ... | alarmed slightly once or twice already that day; she felt unable to cope with the strength of her own desires. To a person controlled by habit, there was humiliation as well as alarm in this sudden release of what appeared to be a very powerful as well as an unreasonable force. An aching in the muscles of her right han... | door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him ... | Night And Day |
But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her ... | No speaker | shan t be a moment."<|quote|>But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded... | her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment."<|quote|>But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bl... | the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment."<|quote|>But the moment prolonged itself, as if fo... | the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute dis... | soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her ste... | hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the enve... | that day; she felt unable to cope with the strength of her own desires. To a person controlled by habit, there was humiliation as well as alarm in this sudden release of what appeared to be a very powerful as well as an unreasonable force. An aching in the muscles of her right hand now showed her that she was crushing ... | he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Ka... | Night And Day |
"Well, did you get an answer?" | Mary Datchet | at her leisure and asked:<|quote|>"Well, did you get an answer?"</|quote|>"He has left Chelsea already," | glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked:<|quote|>"Well, did you get an answer?"</|quote|>"He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won | upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked:<|quote|>"Well, did you get an answer?"</|quote|>"He h... | had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near ... | leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the ... | who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no mess... | and was once more given up to her desperate desire to find Ralph Denham. It was a desire now wild, irrational, unexplained, resembling something felt in childhood. Once more she blamed herself bitterly for her carelessness. But finding herself opposite the Tube station, she pulled herself up and took counsel swiftly, a... | Mary said, speaking slowly and rather strangely. "Oh, I remember now!" Katharine exclaimed, with irritation at her own stupidity. "I suppose it wouldn t take twenty minutes to drive there?" She gathered up her purse and gloves and seemed about to go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand... | Night And Day |
"He has left Chelsea already," | Katharine Hilbery | did you get an answer?"<|quote|>"He has left Chelsea already,"</|quote|>Katharine replied. "Still, he won | her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?"<|quote|>"He has left Chelsea already,"</|quote|>Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said | near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?"<|quote|>"He has left Chelsea already,"</|quote|>... | months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serv... | away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call... | door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him ... | to her desperate desire to find Ralph Denham. It was a desire now wild, irrational, unexplained, resembling something felt in childhood. Once more she blamed herself bitterly for her carelessness. But finding herself opposite the Tube station, she pulled herself up and took counsel swiftly, as of old. It flashed upon h... | if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I wa... | Night And Day |
Katharine replied. | No speaker | "He has left Chelsea already,"<|quote|>Katharine replied.</|quote|>"Still, he won t be | did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already,"<|quote|>Katharine replied.</|quote|>"Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine | was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already,"<|quote|>Katharine replied.</|quote|>"Still... | for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress... | miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t... | her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary t... | find Ralph Denham. It was a desire now wild, irrational, unexplained, resembling something felt in childhood. Once more she blamed herself bitterly for her carelessness. But finding herself opposite the Tube station, she pulled herself up and took counsel swiftly, as of old. It flashed upon her that she would go at onc... | why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through a... | Night And Day |
"Still, he won t be home yet," | Mary Datchet | left Chelsea already," Katharine replied.<|quote|>"Still, he won t be home yet,"</|quote|>said Mary. Katharine was once | get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied.<|quote|>"Still, he won t be home yet,"</|quote|>said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze | a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied.<|quote|>"Still, he won t be hom... | upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her o... | hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." Bu... | Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the ... | Denham. It was a desire now wild, irrational, unexplained, resembling something felt in childhood. Once more she blamed herself bitterly for her carelessness. But finding herself opposite the Tube station, she pulled herself up and took counsel swiftly, as of old. It flashed upon her that she would go at once to Mary D... | hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." Bu... | Night And Day |
said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. | No speaker | won t be home yet,"<|quote|>said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets.</|quote|>"I ll ring up his | already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet,"<|quote|>said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets.</|quote|>"I ll ring up his home and ask whether he | own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet,"<|quote|>said Mary. Katharine was once more ... | of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combinati... | length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if ... | t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But wh... | irrational, unexplained, resembling something felt in childhood. Once more she blamed herself bitterly for her carelessness. But finding herself opposite the Tube station, she pulled herself up and took counsel swiftly, as of old. It flashed upon her that she would go at once to Mary Datchet, and ask her to give her Ra... | her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Ma... | Night And Day |
"I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." | Mary Datchet | and turns of unnamed streets.<|quote|>"I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back."</|quote|>Mary crossed to the telephone | London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets.<|quote|>"I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back."</|quote|>Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of | at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets.<|quote|>"I ll ring up his home and a... | observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get ... | peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been a... | to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaimi... | herself up and took counsel swiftly, as of old. It flashed upon her that she would go at once to Mary Datchet, and ask her to give her Ralph s address. The decision was a relief, not only in giving her a goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of... | of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s address." She was holding a pencil and preparing to write on the envelope. She... | Night And Day |
Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: | No speaker | ask whether he s back."<|quote|>Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced:</|quote|>"No. His sister says he | ring up his home and ask whether he s back."<|quote|>Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced:</|quote|>"No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." | has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back."<|quote|>Mary crossed to the telephone and, aft... | at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "St... | bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her ... | him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seiz... | her that she would go at once to Mary Datchet, and ask her to give her Ralph s address. The decision was a relief, not only in giving her a goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; ... | "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. ... | Night And Day |
"No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." | Mary Datchet | series of brief remarks, announced:<|quote|>"No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet."</|quote|>"Ah!" She applied her ear | the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced:<|quote|>"No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet."</|quote|>"Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. | said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced:<|quote|>"No. His sister says he hasn t come ... | own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresist... | a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purp... | him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at ... | to give her Ralph s address. The decision was a relief, not only in giving her a goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not ... | the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine imme... | Night And Day |
"Ah!" | Mary Datchet | hasn t come back yet."<|quote|>"Ah!"</|quote|>She applied her ear to | "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet."<|quote|>"Ah!"</|quote|>She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They | upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet."<|quote|>"Ah!"</|quote|>She applied her ear to the telephone... | to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to fo... | some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks,... | at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katha... | relief, not only in giving her a goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would stri... | Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and... | Night And Day |
She applied her ear to the telephone once more. | No speaker | t come back yet." "Ah!"<|quote|>She applied her ear to the telephone once more.</|quote|>"They ve had a message. | His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!"<|quote|>She applied her ear to the telephone once more.</|quote|>"They ve had a message. He won t be back | an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!"<|quote|>She applied her ear to the telephone once more.</|... | be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follo... | reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the ... | her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharin... | not only in giving her a goal, but in providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary.... | prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show it... | Night And Day |
"They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." | Mary Datchet | to the telephone once more.<|quote|>"They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner."</|quote|>"Then what is he going | "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more.<|quote|>"They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner."</|quote|>"Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and | and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more.<|quote|>"They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner.... | glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ... | tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at... | immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, th... | providing her with a rational excuse for her own actions. It gave her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance Mary was not... | seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened... | Night And Day |
"Then what is he going to do?" | Katharine Hilbery | t be back to dinner."<|quote|>"Then what is he going to do?"</|quote|>Very pale, and with her | had a message. He won t be back to dinner."<|quote|>"Then what is he going to do?"</|quote|>Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so | ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner."<|quote|>"Then what is he going to do?"</|quote|>Very pale, and ... | you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the te... | accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. ... | exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she ... | her a goal certainly, but the fact of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance Mary was not at home; a charwoman opened the door. All Katharine could do was ... | if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower ... | Night And Day |
Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: | No speaker | is he going to do?"<|quote|>Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarke... | back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?"<|quote|>Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waitin... | to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?"<|quote|>Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mar... | Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of br... | its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human bein... | think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the... | of having a goal led her to dwell exclusively upon her obsession; so that when she rang the bell of Mary s flat, she did not for a moment consider how this demand would strike Mary. To her extreme annoyance Mary was not at home; a charwoman opened the door. All Katharine could do was to accept the invitation to wait. S... | door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him ... | Night And Day |
"I really don t know." | Mary Datchet | little time Mary remarked indifferently:<|quote|>"I really don t know."</|quote|>Slackly lying back in her | her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently:<|quote|>"I really don t know."</|quote|>Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little | with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently:<|quote|>"I really don t kn... | and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unres... | now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home ye... | pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up t... | do was to accept the invitation to wait. She waited for, perhaps, fifteen minutes, and spent them in pacing from one end of the room to the other without intermission. When she heard Mary s key in the door she paused in front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determine... | found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips,... | Night And Day |
Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. | No speaker | "I really don t know."<|quote|>Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose.</|quote|>"Possibly he may come here," | little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know."<|quote|>Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose.</|quote|>"Possibly he may come her... | not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know."<|quote|>Slackly lying back in... | brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Kath... | mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was on... | listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the ... | invitation to wait. She waited for, perhaps, fifteen minutes, and spent them in pacing from one end of the room to the other without intermission. When she heard Mary s key in the door she paused in front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who ... | Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to ... | Night And Day |
"Possibly he may come here," | Mary Datchet | at her indignantly and rose.<|quote|>"Possibly he may come here,"</|quote|>Mary continued, without altering the | distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose.<|quote|>"Possibly he may come here,"</|quote|>Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. | of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose.<|quote|>"Po... | dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time ... | did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to th... | any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroo... | she paused in front of the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were ... | life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not ... | Night And Day |
Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. | No speaker | "Possibly he may come here,"<|quote|>Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice.</|quote|>"It would be worth your | at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here,"<|quote|>Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice.</|quote|>"It would be worth your while to wait if you | a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here,"<|quote|>Mar... | going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferentl... | "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a... | away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call... | the fireplace, and Mary found her standing upright, looking at once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you h... | she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at h... | Night And Day |
"It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." | Mary Datchet | abstract tone of her voice.<|quote|>"It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night."</|quote|>She bent forward and touched | Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice.<|quote|>"It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night."</|quote|>She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the | know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice.<|quot... | fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in h... | t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn... | receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment... | once expectant and determined, like a person who has come on an errand of such importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hund... | left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine... | Night And Day |
She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. | No speaker | want to see him to-night."<|quote|>She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected.</|quote|>"I ll wait half an | while to wait if you want to see him to-night."<|quote|>She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected.</|quote|>"I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, | among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night."<|quote|>She bent forward ... | also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if... | an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve h... | not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not... | importance that it must be broached without preface. Mary exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, yes," Katharine said, brushing these remarks aside, as if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, f... | Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she ... | Night And Day |
"I ll wait half an hour," | Katharine Hilbery | of the coal. Katharine reflected.<|quote|>"I ll wait half an hour,"</|quote|>she said. Mary rose, went | slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected.<|quote|>"I ll wait half an hour,"</|quote|>she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out | he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected.<|quote|>"I ll wait half an hour,"</|q... | her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he m... | ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large ey... | her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its... | if they were in the way. "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I wa... | the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some r... | Night And Day |
she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy ... | No speaker | ll wait half an hour,"<|quote|>she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so inten... | the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour,"<|quote|>she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, wh... | without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour,"<|quote|>she said. Mary rose, went to the table... | time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, with... | crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mar... | She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. ... | "Have you had tea?" "Oh yes," she said, thinking that she had had tea hundreds of years ago, somewhere or other. Mary paused, took off her gloves, and, finding matches, proceeded to light the fire. Katharine checked her with an impatient movement, and said: "Don t light the fire for me.... I want to know Ralph Denham s... | Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and... | Night And Day |
"What would be the time now?" | Katharine Hilbery | herself. The minutes went by.<|quote|>"What would be the time now?"</|quote|>said Katharine at last. The | sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by.<|quote|>"What would be the time now?"</|quote|>said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. | looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by.<|quote|>"What would be the time now?"</|quote|>said Kathar... | an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to... | little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-... | combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imag... | purse and gloves and seemed about to go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is ... | t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It... | Night And Day |
said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. | No speaker | would be the time now?"<|quote|>said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent.</|quote|>"I m going to get | The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?"<|quote|>said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent.</|quote|>"I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising | herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?"<|quote|>said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not qui... | habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her... | the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched th... | adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow t... | to go. "But you won t find him," said Mary, pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He ... | once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from ev... | Night And Day |
"I m going to get dinner ready," | Mary Datchet | half-hour was not quite spent.<|quote|>"I m going to get dinner ready,"</|quote|>said Mary, rising from her | said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent.<|quote|>"I m going to get dinner ready,"</|quote|>said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," | away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent.<|quote|>"I m going to get dinner ready,"</|quote|>s... | her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence ... | and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstice... | She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home a... | pausing with a match in her hand. Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet h... | to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little ti... | Night And Day |
said Mary, rising from her table. | No speaker | going to get dinner ready,"<|quote|>said Mary, rising from her table.</|quote|>"Then I ll go," said | not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready,"<|quote|>said Mary, rising from her table.</|quote|>"Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you | the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready,"<|quote|>said Mary, rising from her table.</|quot... | her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghos... | and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half a... | asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary... | Katharine, who had already turned towards the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have fo... | Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer ... | Night And Day |
"Then I ll go," | Katharine Hilbery | Mary, rising from her table.<|quote|>"Then I ll go,"</|quote|>said Katharine. "Why don t | to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table.<|quote|>"Then I ll go,"</|quote|>said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you | at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table.<|quote|>"Then I ll go,"</|quote|>said Katharine. "Wh... | sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely... | here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, we... | answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and... | the door, stopped and looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find ... | answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and... | Night And Day |
said Katharine. | No speaker | table. "Then I ll go,"<|quote|>said Katharine.</|quote|>"Why don t you stay? | said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go,"<|quote|>said Katharine.</|quote|>"Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine | in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go,"<|quote|>said Katharine.</|quote|>"Why don t you stay? Wher... | eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the... | altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her... | Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of br... | looked at her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possibl... | first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only t... | Night And Day |
"Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" | Mary Datchet | I ll go," said Katharine.<|quote|>"Why don t you stay? Where are you going?"</|quote|>Katharine looked round the room, | rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine.<|quote|>"Why don t you stay? Where are you going?"</|quote|>Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her | room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine.<|quote|>"Why don t you stay? Where are you going?... | intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost o... | abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under... | Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home yet," said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, annou... | her. "Why? Where is he?" she asked. "He won t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary t... | now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home ye... | Night And Day |
Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. | No speaker | stay? Where are you going?"<|quote|>Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance.</|quote|>"Perhaps I might find him," | Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?"<|quote|>Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance.</|quote|>"Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should | of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?"<|quote|>Katharine looked round the room, conveying her u... | watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be th... | your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that... | said Mary. Katharine was once more irresistibly drawn to gaze upon an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet... | t have left his office." "But he has left the office," she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But wh... | found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips,... | Night And Day |
"Perhaps I might find him," | Katharine Hilbery | her uncertainty in her glance.<|quote|>"Perhaps I might find him,"</|quote|>she mused. "But why should | looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance.<|quote|>"Perhaps I might find him,"</|quote|>she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see | now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance.<|quote|>"Perhaps I might find him,"</|q... | found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite... | She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round a... | an imaginary map of London, to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve h... | she replied. "The only question is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropp... | to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becomi... | Night And Day |
she mused. | No speaker | "Perhaps I might find him,"<|quote|>she mused.</|quote|>"But why should it matter? | her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him,"<|quote|>she mused.</|quote|>"But why should it matter? You ll see him another | The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him,"<|quote|>she mused.</|quote|>"But why shou... | on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get d... | the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once... | to follow the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be ba... | is will he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her... | a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her surve... | Night And Day |
"But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." | Mary Datchet | might find him," she mused.<|quote|>"But why should it matter? You ll see him another day."</|quote|>Mary spoke, and intended to | in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused.<|quote|>"But why should it matter? You ll see him another day."</|quote|>Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was | was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused.<|quote|>"But why should it matter? You ll se... | She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready,... | so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looke... | the twists and turns of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinn... | he have reached home yet? He went to see me at Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her straine... | "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making herself not only tidy, but seemly and ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, lea... | Night And Day |
Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. | No speaker | ll see him another day."<|quote|>Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough.</|quote|>"I was wrong to come | why should it matter? You ll see him another day."<|quote|>Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough.</|quote|>"I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes | said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day."<|quote|>Mary spoke, and intended to speak,... | the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go,... | coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so sti... | his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with... | Chelsea; I tried to meet him and missed him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of cours... | at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected... | Night And Day |
"I was wrong to come here," | Katharine Hilbery | intended to speak, cruelly enough.<|quote|>"I was wrong to come here,"</|quote|>Katharine replied. Their eyes met | another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough.<|quote|>"I was wrong to come here,"</|quote|>Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. | ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough.<|quote|>"I was wrong to come here... | were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are... | hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost... | Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upo... | him. He will have found no message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seiz... | lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her... | Night And Day |
Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. | No speaker | was wrong to come here,"<|quote|>Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched.</|quote|>"You had a perfect right | to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here,"<|quote|>Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched.</|quote|>"You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. | t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here,"<|quote|>Katharine replied. Their eyes ... | one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked... | to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching some... | after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unrespondi... | message to explain. So I must find him as soon as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver a... | announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed... | Night And Day |
"You had a perfect right to come here," | Mary Datchet | with antagonism, and neither flinched.<|quote|>"You had a perfect right to come here,"</|quote|>Mary answered. A loud knocking | Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched.<|quote|>"You had a perfect right to come here,"</|quote|>Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. | the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched.<|quote|>"You had a per... | minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance... | lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found he... | says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much t... | as possible." Mary took in the situation at her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily... | She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round a... | Night And Day |
Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. | No speaker | perfect right to come here,"<|quote|>Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment.</|quote|>"Of course you had a | neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here,"<|quote|>Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment.</|quote|>"Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, | "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here,"<|quote|>Mary answered. A loud kno... | now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. ... | a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned h... | She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit w... | her leisure. "But why not telephone?" she said. Katharine immediately dropped all that she was holding; her strained expression relaxed, and exclaiming, "Of course! Why didn t I think of that!" she seized the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharin... | but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has l... | Night And Day |
"Of course you had a right to come," | Mary Datchet | might not read her disappointment.<|quote|>"Of course you had a right to come,"</|quote|>Mary repeated, laying the note | looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment.<|quote|>"Of course you had a right to come,"</|quote|>Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said | replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment.<|quote|>"Of course you h... | you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with a... | could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The mi... | large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lyin... | the telephone receiver and gave her number. Mary looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with e... | coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so sti... | Night And Day |
Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. | No speaker | had a right to come,"<|quote|>Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table.</|quote|>"No," said Katharine. "Except that | her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come,"<|quote|>Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table.</|quote|>"No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one | flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come,"<|quote|>Mary repeated, laying the note u... | round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfe... | some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Ka... | as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the... | looked at her steadily, and then left the room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, ... | now a serviceable human being, mistress of her own destiny, and thus, by some combination of ideas, fit to be adorned with the dignity of silver chains and glowing brooches. She came in at her leisure and asked: "Well, did you get an answer?" "He has left Chelsea already," Katharine replied. "Still, he won t be home ye... | Night And Day |
"No," | Katharine Hilbery | the note upon the table.<|quote|>"No,"</|quote|>said Katharine. "Except that when | to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table.<|quote|>"No,"</|quote|>said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has | here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table.<|quote|>"No,"</|quote|>said Katharin... | glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud kno... | Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not ... | herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferentl... | room. At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr... | never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, a... | Night And Day |
said Katharine. | No speaker | note upon the table. "No,"<|quote|>said Katharine.</|quote|>"Except that when one s | come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No,"<|quote|>said Katharine.</|quote|>"Except that when one s desperate one has a sort | Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No,"<|quote|>said Katharine.</|quote|>"Exc... | "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at... | found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite... | also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if... | At length Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denh... | His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also no... | Night And Day |
"Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." | Katharine Hilbery | the table. "No," said Katharine.<|quote|>"Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him."</|quote|>She spoke with a self-abandonment | repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine.<|quote|>"Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him."</|quote|>She spoke with a self-abandon... | A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine.<|quote|>"Except that when one s desp... | might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door i... | unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m g... | so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, to... | Katharine heard, through all the superimposed weight of London, the mysterious sound of feet in her own house mounting to the little room, where she could almost see the pictures and the books; she listened with extreme intentness to the preparatory vibrations, and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?... | was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round in her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing.... | Night And Day |
She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. | No speaker | Anything may happen to him."<|quote|>She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her.</|quote|>"You know you exaggerate; you | about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him."<|quote|>She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her.</|quote|>"You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said | the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him."<|quote|>She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never s... | a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said K... | by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I ... | the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him... | and then established her identity. "Has Mr. Denham called?" "Yes, miss." "Did he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not... | was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying... | Night And Day |
"You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," | Mary Datchet | had never seen in her.<|quote|>"You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense,"</|quote|>she said roughly. "Mary, I | with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her.<|quote|>"You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense,"</|quote|>she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell | s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her.<|quote|>"You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense,"</|quo... | the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of rig... | half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll ... | they, too, were very distant and indifferent. Katharine looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slip... | he ask for me?" "Yes. We said you were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory t... | could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The mi... | Night And Day |
she said roughly. | No speaker | exaggerate; you re talking nonsense,"<|quote|>she said roughly.</|quote|>"Mary, I must talk I | in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense,"<|quote|>she said roughly.</|quote|>"Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn | I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense,"<|quote|>she said roughly.</|quote|>"Mary, I must t... | it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happ... | to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and inte... | looked at her indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine re... | were out, miss." "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off h... | eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the... | Night And Day |
"Mary, I must talk I must tell you" | Katharine Hilbery | talking nonsense," she said roughly.<|quote|>"Mary, I must talk I must tell you"</|quote|>"You needn t tell me | know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly.<|quote|>"Mary, I must talk I must tell you"</|quote|>"You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can | How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly.<|quote|>"Mary, I must talk I must tell you"</|qu... | with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? ... | ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak,... | indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll... | "Did he leave any message?" "No. He went away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things... | her fingers. Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence ... | Night And Day |
"You needn t tell me anything," | Mary Datchet | talk I must tell you"<|quote|>"You needn t tell me anything,"</|quote|>Mary interrupted her. "Can t | said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you"<|quote|>"You needn t tell me anything,"</|quote|>Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, | him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you"<|quote|>"You needn t tell me anything,"</|quot... | so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the stre... | I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Kat... | Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to t... | away. About twenty minutes ago, miss." Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call... | "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I migh... | Night And Day |
Mary interrupted her. | No speaker | needn t tell me anything,"<|quote|>Mary interrupted her.</|quote|>"Can t I see for | I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything,"<|quote|>Mary interrupted her.</|quote|>"Can t I see for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed. | He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything,"<|quote|>Mary interrupted her.</|quote|>"Can... | her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may ... | don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met ... | tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the gree... | Katharine hung up the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a m... | to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of h... | Night And Day |
"Can t I see for myself?" | Mary Datchet | me anything," Mary interrupted her.<|quote|>"Can t I see for myself?"</|quote|>"No, no," Katharine exclaimed. "It | you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her.<|quote|>"Can t I see for myself?"</|quote|>"No, no," Katharine exclaimed. "It s not that" Her look, | about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her.<|quote|>"Can t I see for myself?"</... | course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spok... | stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antag... | voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lam... | the receiver. She walked the length of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the mo... | ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pal... | Night And Day |
"No, no," | Katharine Hilbery | t I see for myself?"<|quote|>"No, no,"</|quote|>Katharine exclaimed. "It s not | anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?"<|quote|>"No, no,"</|quote|>Katharine exclaimed. "It s not that" Her look, passing beyond | may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?"<|quote|>"No, no,"</|quote|>Katharine exclaimed.... | come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment ... | looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had ... | while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was ... | of the room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for som... | forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock of hair round and round ... | Night And Day |
Katharine exclaimed. | No speaker | see for myself?" "No, no,"<|quote|>Katharine exclaimed.</|quote|>"It s not that" Her | interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no,"<|quote|>Katharine exclaimed.</|quote|>"It s not that" Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond | to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no,"<|quote|>Katharine exclaimed.</|quote|>"It s not ... | repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary ha... | the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect rig... | wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming ... | room in such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reaso... | said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly... | Night And Day |
"It s not that" | Katharine Hilbery | myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed.<|quote|>"It s not that"</|quote|>Her look, passing beyond Mary, | "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed.<|quote|>"It s not that"</|quote|>Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond the verge of the | She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed.<|quote|>"It s not that"</|quote|>Her... | the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in h... | conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come... | you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit,... | such acute disappointment that she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary f... | to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in her armchair, she watched the little flames beginning to creep among the coals indifferently, as if they, too, were very distan... | Night And Day |
Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond the verge of the room and out beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fin... | No speaker | exclaimed. "It s not that"<|quote|>Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond the verge of the room and out beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of h... | for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed. "It s not that"<|quote|>Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond the verge of the room and out beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think hersel... | self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed. "It s not that"<|quote|>Her look, passing beyond Mary... | table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you ... | her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud... | him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll wait half an hour," she said. Mary rose, went to the table, spread out her papers under the green-shaded lamp and, with an action that was becoming a habit, twisted a lock ... | she did not at first perceive Mary s absence. Then she called in a harsh and peremptory tone: "Mary." Mary was taking off her outdoor things in the bedroom. She heard Katharine call her. "Yes," she said, "I shan t be a moment." But the moment prolonged itself, as if for some reason Mary found satisfaction in making her... | only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her t... | Night And Day |
"You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." | Mary Datchet | upon her eyelids, she murmured:<|quote|>"You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him."</|quote|>And yet, what had she | for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured:<|quote|>"You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him."</|quote|>And yet, what had she known? She could not remember | words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured:<|quote|>"You forget that I loved him too. ... | nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed. "It s not that" Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond the verge of the room and out beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately,... | open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s... | Once she looked unperceived at her visitor, who never moved, who sat so still, with eyes so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katha... | ornamented. A stage in her life had been accomplished in the last months which left its traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed... | was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would b... | Night And Day |
And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, ... | No speaker | him. I _did_ know him."<|quote|>And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She l... | too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him."<|quote|>And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love... | not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him."<|quote|>And yet, what had she known? She could not remember i... | me anything," Mary interrupted her. "Can t I see for myself?" "No, no," Katharine exclaimed. "It s not that" Her look, passing beyond Mary, beyond the verge of the room and out beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. S... | not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anyt... | so intent, that you could almost fancy that she was watching something, some face that never looked up at her. Mary found herself unable to go on writing. She turned her eyes away, but only to be aware of the presence of what Katharine looked at. There were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghos... | traces for ever upon her bearing. Youth, and the bloom of youth, had receded, leaving the purpose of her face to show itself in the hollower cheeks, the firmer lips, the eyes no longer spontaneously observing at random, but narrowed upon an end which was not near at hand. This woman was now a serviceable human being, m... | indignantly and rose. "Possibly he may come here," Mary continued, without altering the abstract tone of her voice. "It would be worth your while to wait if you want to see him to-night." She bent forward and touched the wood, so that the flames slipped in between the interstices of the coal. Katharine reflected. "I ll... | Night And Day |
"There are different ways of loving," | Mary Datchet | in silence against the mantelpiece.<|quote|>"There are different ways of loving,"</|quote|>she murmured, half to herself, | surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece.<|quote|>"There are different ways of loving,"</|quote|>she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no | shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece.<|quote|>"There are different ways... | stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, and her eyes rested upon the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and l... | beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him to... | matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and retu... | of unnamed streets. "I ll ring up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he... | were ghosts in the room, and one, strangely and sadly, was the ghost of herself. The minutes went by. "What would be the time now?" said Katharine at last. The half-hour was not quite spent. "I m going to get dinner ready," said Mary, rising from her table. "Then I ll go," said Katharine. "Why don t you stay? Where are... | Night And Day |
she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. | No speaker | are different ways of loving,"<|quote|>she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.</|quote|>"Perhaps he s waiting in | silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving,"<|quote|>she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.</|quote|>"Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she | and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving,"<|quote|>she murmured, half... | was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, and her eyes rested upon the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love bu... | way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did... | day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel,... | up his home and ask whether he s back." Mary crossed to the telephone and, after a series of brief remarks, announced: "No. His sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and w... | conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come... | Night And Day |
"Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," | Katharine Hilbery | absorbed in her own thoughts.<|quote|>"Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night,"</|quote|>she exclaimed. "I ll go | of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.<|quote|>"Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night,"</|quote|>she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." | she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.<|quote|... | the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the o... | tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and s... | flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the ... | sister says he hasn t come back yet." "Ah!" She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so... | beyond the verge of the room and out beyond any words that came her way, wildly and passionately, convinced Mary that she, at any rate, could not follow such a glance to its end. She was baffled; she tried to think herself back again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murm... | Night And Day |
she exclaimed. | No speaker | in the street again to-night,"<|quote|>she exclaimed.</|quote|>"I ll go now. I | thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night,"<|quote|>she exclaimed.</|quote|>"I ll go now. I might find him." "It s | old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night,"<|quot... | seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silenc... | of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that ... | Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one... | She applied her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit w... | what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re talking nonsense," she said roughly. "Mary, I must talk I must tell you" "You needn t tell me anyth... | Night And Day |
"I ll go now. I might find him." | Katharine Hilbery | street again to-night," she exclaimed.<|quote|>"I ll go now. I might find him."</|quote|>"It s far more likely | he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed.<|quote|>"I ll go now. I might find him."</|quote|>"It s far more likely that he ll come here," | asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed.<|quote|... | a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against t... | love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was... | A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate on... | her ear to the telephone once more. "They ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now app... | Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-abandonment that Mary had never seen in her. "You know you exaggerate; you re... | Night And Day |
"It s far more likely that he ll come here," | Mary Datchet | now. I might find him."<|quote|>"It s far more likely that he ll come here,"</|quote|>said Mary, and Katharine, after | she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him."<|quote|>"It s far more likely that he ll come here,"</|quote|>said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: | mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him."<|quote|>"It s far more likel... | she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of ... | eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was a... | Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do ... | ve had a message. He won t be back to dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of he... | come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. Mary went to open it, and returning with some note or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except t... | Night And Day |
said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: | No speaker | that he ll come here,"<|quote|>said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said:</|quote|>"I ll wait another half-hour." | "It s far more likely that he ll come here,"<|quote|>said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said:</|quote|>"I ll wait another half-hour." She sank down into her | to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here,"<|quote|>said Mary, and Katharine, after considering f... | the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length... | I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any mo... | or parcel, Katharine looked away so that Mary might not read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anyth... | dinner." "Then what is he going to do?" Very pale, and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time ... | again into the height of her love for Ralph. Pressing her fingers upon her eyelids, she murmured: "You forget that I loved him too. I thought I knew him. I _did_ know him." And yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She c... | Night And Day |
"I ll wait another half-hour." | Katharine Hilbery | considering for a moment, said:<|quote|>"I ll wait another half-hour."</|quote|>She sank down into her | said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said:<|quote|>"I ll wait another half-hour."</|quote|>She sank down into her chair again, and took up | unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said:<|quote|>"I ll wait another half-hour."</|quote|... | the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her... | yet, what had she known? She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, and ... | read her disappointment. "Of course you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything... | and with her large eyes fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know."... | right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with a self-aba... | Night And Day |
She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watched, indeed, not a face, but a procession, not of people, but of life itself: the good and bad; the meaning; the past, the present, and the future. All this seemed apparent... | No speaker | "I ll wait another half-hour."<|quote|>She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watched, indeed, not a face, but a procession, not of people, but of life itself: the good and bad; the meaning; the past, the present, a... | considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour."<|quote|>She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watched, indeed, not a face, but a procession, not of people, but of life itself: the good and bad; the m... | seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour."<|quote|>She sank down into her chair again... | in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed a... | She could not remember it any more. She pressed her eyeballs until they struck stars and suns into her darkness. She convinced herself that she was stirring among ashes. She desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, and her eyes rested upon the ... | you had a right to come," Mary repeated, laying the note upon the table. "No," said Katharine. "Except that when one s desperate one has a sort of right. I am desperate. How do I know what s happening to him now? He may do anything. He may wander about the streets all night. Anything may happen to him." She spoke with ... | fixed not so much upon Mary as upon vistas of unresponding blankness, Katharine addressed herself also not so much to Mary as to the unrelenting spirit which now appeared to mock her from every quarter of her survey. After waiting a little time Mary remarked indifferently: "I really don t know." Slackly lying back in h... | conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come... | Night And Day |
"But where are you going to?" | Mary Datchet | announced her intention of going.<|quote|>"But where are you going to?"</|quote|>Mary asked, desiring vaguely to | Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going.<|quote|>"But where are you going to?"</|quote|>Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m | looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going.<|quote|>"But where a... | drank together almost in silence, and when Mary told her to eat more, she ate more; when she was told to drink wine, she drank it. Nevertheless, beneath this superficial obedience, Mary knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and... | to miss Ralph Denham on that particular night; into this inadequate event crowded feelings that the great crises of life might have failed to call forth. She had missed him, and knew the bitterness of all failure; she desired him, and knew the torment of all passion. It did not matter what trivial accidents led to this... | or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She s... | you stay? Where are you going?" Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with a... | past, the present, and the future. All this seemed apparent to her, and she was not ashamed of her extravagance so much as exalted to one of the pinnacles of existence, where it behoved the world to do her homage. No one but she herself knew what it meant to miss Ralph Denham on that particular night; into this inadequ... | Night And Day |
Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. | No speaker | where are you going to?"<|quote|>Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her.</|quote|>"Oh, I m going home | her intention of going. "But where are you going to?"<|quote|>Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her.</|quote|>"Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary | so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?"<|quote|>Mary asked, d... | when Mary told her to eat more, she ate more; when she was told to drink wine, she drank it. Nevertheless, beneath this superficial obedience, Mary knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own... | particular night; into this inadequate event crowded feelings that the great crises of life might have failed to call forth. She had missed him, and knew the bitterness of all failure; she desired him, and knew the torment of all passion. It did not matter what trivial accidents led to this culmination. Nor did she car... | of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own tho... | Katharine looked round the room, conveying her uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched.... | and she was not ashamed of her extravagance so much as exalted to one of the pinnacles of existence, where it behoved the world to do her homage. No one but she herself knew what it meant to miss Ralph Denham on that particular night; into this inadequate event crowded feelings that the great crises of life might have ... | Night And Day |
"Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." | Katharine Hilbery | desiring vaguely to hinder her.<|quote|>"Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps."</|quote|>Mary saw that it would | you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her.<|quote|>"Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps."</|quote|>Mary saw that it would be useless to try to | own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her.<|quote|>"Oh... | she ate more; when she was told to drink wine, she drank it. Nevertheless, beneath this superficial obedience, Mary knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more t... | feelings that the great crises of life might have failed to call forth. She had missed him, and knew the bitterness of all failure; she desired him, and knew the torment of all passion. It did not matter what trivial accidents led to this culmination. Nor did she care how extravagant she appeared, nor how openly she sh... | was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again... | uncertainty in her glance. "Perhaps I might find him," she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary a... | the present, and the future. All this seemed apparent to her, and she was not ashamed of her extravagance so much as exalted to one of the pinnacles of existence, where it behoved the world to do her homage. No one but she herself knew what it meant to miss Ralph Denham on that particular night; into this inadequate ev... | Night And Day |
Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where ... | No speaker | home no, to Highgate perhaps."<|quote|>Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded int... | her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps."<|quote|>Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that ... | became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps."<|quote|>Mary saw th... | wine, she drank it. Nevertheless, beneath this superficial obedience, Mary knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarme... | failed to call forth. She had missed him, and knew the bitterness of all failure; she desired him, and knew the torment of all passion. It did not matter what trivial accidents led to this culmination. Nor did she care how extravagant she appeared, nor how openly she showed her feelings. When the dinner was ready Mary ... | leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him."... | she mused. "But why should it matter? You ll see him another day." Mary spoke, and intended to speak, cruelly enough. "I was wrong to come here," Katharine replied. Their eyes met with antagonism, and neither flinched. "You had a perfect right to come here," Mary answered. A loud knocking at the door interrupted them. ... | she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after co... | Night And Day |
"Look here where are you going?" | Mary Datchet | the direction of Haverstock Hill.<|quote|>"Look here where are you going?"</|quote|>Mary cried, catching her by | finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill.<|quote|>"Look here where are you going?"</|quote|>Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take | more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill.<|quote|>"Look here where are you going?"</|quote|... | Or should she return to her room, and spend the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katha... | of a gift, the best, perhaps, that she could offer, but she was, thank Heaven, in love no longer. She was tempted to spend the first instalment of her freedom in some dissipation; in the pit of the Coliseum, for example, since they were now passing the door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny o... | knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the... | desisted. She was astonished at her discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, and her eyes rested upon the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; a... | eat more, she ate more; when she was told to drink wine, she drank it. Nevertheless, beneath this superficial obedience, Mary knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually f... | Night And Day |
Mary cried, catching her by the hand. | No speaker | here where are you going?"<|quote|>Mary cried, catching her by the hand.</|quote|>"We must take that cab | direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?"<|quote|>Mary cried, catching her by the hand.</|quote|>"We must take that cab and go home." She hailed | Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?"<|quote|>Mary cried, catching her by the hand.</|quote|... | room, and spend the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke ... | that she could offer, but she was, thank Heaven, in love no longer. She was tempted to spend the first instalment of her freedom in some dissipation; in the pit of the Coliseum, for example, since they were now passing the door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top o... | own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they ha... | discovery. She did not love Ralph any more. She looked back dazed into the room, and her eyes rested upon the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of th... | where it behoved the world to do her homage. No one but she herself knew what it meant to miss Ralph Denham on that particular night; into this inadequate event crowded feelings that the great crises of life might have failed to call forth. She had missed him, and knew the bitterness of all failure; she desired him, an... | Night And Day |
"We must take that cab and go home." | Mary Datchet | catching her by the hand.<|quote|>"We must take that cab and go home."</|quote|>She hailed a cab and | are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand.<|quote|>"We must take that cab and go home."</|quote|>She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get | the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand.<|quote|>"We must take that cab and go home."</|quote|>Sh... | the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a g... | thank Heaven, in love no longer. She was tempted to spend the first instalment of her freedom in some dissipation; in the pit of the Coliseum, for example, since they were now passing the door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote ... | so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of goin... | more. She looked back dazed into the room, and her eyes rested upon the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glanc... | that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. Sh... | Night And Day |
She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. | No speaker | that cab and go home."<|quote|>She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted.</|quote|>"Very well," she said. "We | the hand. "We must take that cab and go home."<|quote|>She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted.</|quote|>"Very well," she said. "We may as well go there | she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home."<|quote|>She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine shoul... | scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the ed... | tempted to spend the first instalment of her freedom in some dissipation; in the pit of the Coliseum, for example, since they were now passing the door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or t... | so unseeing and so intent upon some vision of her own that Mary gradually felt more than protective she became actually alarmed at the prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary ... | and her eyes rested upon the table with its lamp-lit papers. The steady radiance seemed for a second to have its counterpart within her; she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the reve... | and knew the torment of all passion. It did not matter what trivial accidents led to this culmination. Nor did she care how extravagant she appeared, nor how openly she showed her feelings. When the dinner was ready Mary told her to come, and she came submissively, as if she let Mary direct her movements for her. They ... | Night And Day |
"Very well," | Katharine Hilbery | to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted.<|quote|>"Very well,"</|quote|>she said. "We may as | the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted.<|quote|>"Very well,"</|quote|>she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere | the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted.<|quote|>"Very well,"</|quote|>she said... | in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you goi... | passing the door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noticed these names painted on little boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she retur... | prospect of some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop h... | she shut her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of ... | saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she w... | Night And Day |
she said. | No speaker | Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We may as well go | to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We may as well go there as anywhere else." A | of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We may as w... | place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Ma... | door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noticed these names painted on little boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she return to her roo... | some collision between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she ... | her eyes; she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," ... | the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. She was free once more at the cost of a gift, the best, perhaps, that she could offer, but she was, thank Heaven, in love no longer. She was tempted to spend the first instalment of her freedom in some dissipation; in the pit of the Coliseum, for exampl... | Night And Day |
"We may as well go there as anywhere else." | Katharine Hilbery | submitted. "Very well," she said.<|quote|>"We may as well go there as anywhere else."</|quote|>A gloom seemed to have | them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said.<|quote|>"We may as well go there as anywhere else."</|quote|>A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay | Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said.<|quote|>"We may as well go there as anywher... | a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, ca... | not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noticed these names painted on little boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she return to her room, and spe... | between Katharine and the forces of the outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to... | she opened them and looked at the lamp again; another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmur... | outside world. Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met wit... | Night And Day |
A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. | No speaker | go there as anywhere else."<|quote|>A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection.</|quote|>"I m sure we shall | said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else."<|quote|>A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection.</|quote|>"I m sure we shall find him," she said more | catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else."<|quote|>A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She ... | stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go ... | tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noticed these names painted on little boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she return to her room, and spend the night working out the details of a very e... | Directly they had done, Katharine announced her intention of going. "But where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition... | another love burnt in the place of the old one, or so, in a momentary glance of amazement, she guessed before the revelation was over and the old surroundings asserted themselves. She leant in silence against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made... | where are you going to?" Mary asked, desiring vaguely to hinder her. "Oh, I m going home no, to Highgate perhaps." Mary saw that it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they wer... | Night And Day |
"I m sure we shall find him," | Mary Datchet | and her attitude of dejection.<|quote|>"I m sure we shall find him,"</|quote|>she said more gently than | was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection.<|quote|>"I m sure we shall find him,"</|quote|>she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It | Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection.<|quote|>"I m sure we shall find him,... | if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may a... | boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she return to her room, and spend the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passi... | it would be useless to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going.... | against the mantelpiece. "There are different ways of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more l... | freedom in some dissipation; in the pit of the Coliseum, for example, since they were now passing the door. Why not go in and celebrate her independence of the tyranny of love? Or, perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noti... | Night And Day |
she said more gently than she had yet spoken. | No speaker | sure we shall find him,"<|quote|>she said more gently than she had yet spoken.</|quote|>"It may be too late," | attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him,"<|quote|>she said more gently than she had yet spoken.</|quote|>"It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, | may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him,"<|quote|>she said more gently than she had yet spoken.<... | "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A glo... | Or should she return to her room, and spend the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katha... | stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive... | of loving," she murmured, half to herself, at length. Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Kathari... | Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noticed these names painted on little boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she return to her room, and spend the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and bro... | Night And Day |
"It may be too late," | Katharine Hilbery | than she had yet spoken.<|quote|>"It may be too late,"</|quote|>Katharine replied. Without understanding her, | him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken.<|quote|>"It may be too late,"</|quote|>Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her | gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken.<|quote|>"It may be too late,"</|quote|>Katharine r... | her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her c... | the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that... | upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp... | Katharine made no reply and seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait a... | perhaps, the top of an omnibus bound for some remote place such as Camberwell, or Sidcup, or the Welsh Harp would suit her better. She noticed these names painted on little boards for the first time for weeks. Or should she return to her room, and spend the night working out the details of a very enlightened and ingeni... | Night And Day |
Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering. | No speaker | "It may be too late,"<|quote|>Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering.</|quote|>"Nonsense," she said, taking her | than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late,"<|quote|>Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering.</|quote|>"Nonsense," she said, taking her hand and rubbing it. "If | on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late,"<|quote|>Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Ma... | must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and app... | details of a very enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal ... | met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open ... | seemed unaware of her words. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. "Perhaps he s waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour." She sank ... | together almost in silence, and when Mary told her to eat more, she ate more; when she was told to drink wine, she drank it. Nevertheless, beneath this superficial obedience, Mary knew that she was following her own thoughts unhindered. She was not inattentive so much as remote; she looked at once so unseeing and so in... | Night And Day |
"Nonsense," | Mary Datchet | for what she was suffering.<|quote|>"Nonsense,"</|quote|>she said, taking her hand | Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering.<|quote|>"Nonsense,"</|quote|>she said, taking her hand and rubbing it. "If we | of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering.<|quote|>"Nonsense,"</|quote|>she said, taki... | should get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her ... | most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, ... | were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery w... | waiting in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour." She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to ... | not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. She was free once more at the cost of a gift, the best, perhaps, that she could offer, but she wa... | Night And Day |
she said, taking her hand and rubbing it. | No speaker | what she was suffering. "Nonsense,"<|quote|>she said, taking her hand and rubbing it.</|quote|>"If we don t find | began to pity her for what she was suffering. "Nonsense,"<|quote|>she said, taking her hand and rubbing it.</|quote|>"If we don t find him there we shall find | her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering. "Nonsense,"<|quote|>she said, taking her hand ... | get in, while she directed the driver to take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor ... | and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and fi... | walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which ... | in the street again to-night," she exclaimed. "I ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour." She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the posi... | In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope... | Night And Day |
"If we don t find him there we shall find him somewhere else." | Mary Datchet | her hand and rubbing it.<|quote|>"If we don t find him there we shall find him somewhere else."</|quote|>"But suppose he s walking | suffering. "Nonsense," she said, taking her hand and rubbing it.<|quote|>"If we don t find him there we shall find him somewhere else."</|quote|>"But suppose he s walking about the streets for hours | and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering. "Nonsense," she said, taking her hand and rubbing it.<|quote|>"If we don t find him there we s... | take them to Cheyne Walk. Katharine submitted. "Very well," she said. "We may as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure ... | the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haversto... | that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. Sh... | ll go now. I might find him." "It s far more likely that he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour." She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watche... | the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direct... | Night And Day |
"But suppose he s walking about the streets for hours and hours?" | Katharine Hilbery | shall find him somewhere else."<|quote|>"But suppose he s walking about the streets for hours and hours?"</|quote|>She leant forward and looked | t find him there we shall find him somewhere else."<|quote|>"But suppose he s walking about the streets for hours and hours?"</|quote|>She leant forward and looked out of the window. "He | said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering. "Nonsense," she said, taking her hand and rubbing it. "If we don t find him there we shall find him somewhere else."<|quote|>"But suppose he s walking about th... | as well go there as anywhere else." A gloom seemed to have fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be t... | passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching ... | going. She herself was not attentive. She was glad of the movement along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. She was free once more at the cost of a gift, the best, perhaps, that she ... | he ll come here," said Mary, and Katharine, after considering for a moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour." She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watched, indeed, not a face, but a procession, not of people, b... | enlightened and ingenious scheme? Of all possibilities this appealed to her most, and brought to mind the fire, the lamplight, the steady glow which had seemed lit in the place where a more passionate flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently ... | Night And Day |
She leant forward and looked out of the window. | No speaker | streets for hours and hours?"<|quote|>She leant forward and looked out of the window.</|quote|>"He may refuse ever to | he s walking about the streets for hours and hours?"<|quote|>She leant forward and looked out of the window.</|quote|>"He may refuse ever to speak to me again," she | late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffering. "Nonsense," she said, taking her hand and rubbing it. "If we don t find him there we shall find him somewhere else." "But suppose he s walking about the streets for hours and hours?"<|quote|>She leant forward and loo... | fallen on her. She lay back in her corner, silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mar... | the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab an... | along lamp-lit streets in the open air. She was fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. She was free once more at the cost of a gift, the best, perhaps, that she could offer, but she was, thank Heaven, in love no longer. She was ... | moment, said: "I ll wait another half-hour." She sank down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watched, indeed, not a face, but a procession, not of people, but of life itself: the good and bad; the meaning; the past, the pres... | to try to stop her. All she could do was to insist upon coming too, but she met with no opposition; Katharine seemed indifferent to her presence. In a few minutes they were walking along the Strand. They walked so rapidly that Mary was deluded into the belief that Katharine knew where she was going. She herself was not... | Night And Day |
"He may refuse ever to speak to me again," | Katharine Hilbery | looked out of the window.<|quote|>"He may refuse ever to speak to me again,"</|quote|>she said in a low | hours?" She leant forward and looked out of the window.<|quote|>"He may refuse ever to speak to me again,"</|quote|>she said in a low voice, almost to herself. The | pity her for what she was suffering. "Nonsense," she said, taking her hand and rubbing it. "If we don t find him there we shall find him somewhere else." "But suppose he s walking about the streets for hours and hours?" She leant forward and looked out of the window.<|quote|>"He may refuse ever to speak to me again,"</... | silent and apparently exhausted. Mary, in spite of her own preoccupation, was struck by her pallor and her attitude of dejection. "I m sure we shall find him," she said more gently than she had yet spoken. "It may be too late," Katharine replied. Without understanding her, Mary began to pity her for what she was suffer... | had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the hand. "We must take that cab and go home." She hailed a cab and insisted that Katharine should get in, wh... | fingering, painfully and with fear, yet with strange hope, too, the discovery which she had stumbled upon unexpectedly that night. She was free once more at the cost of a gift, the best, perhaps, that she could offer, but she was, thank Heaven, in love no longer. She was tempted to spend the first instalment of her fre... | down into her chair again, and took up the same position which Mary had compared to the position of one watching an unseeing face. She watched, indeed, not a face, but a procession, not of people, but of life itself: the good and bad; the meaning; the past, the present, and the future. All this seemed apparent to her, ... | flame had once burnt. Now Katharine stopped, and Mary woke to the fact that instead of having a goal she had evidently none. She paused at the edge of the crossing, and looked this way and that, and finally made as if in the direction of Haverstock Hill. "Look here where are you going?" Mary cried, catching her by the ... | Night And Day |
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