She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. “We are the species,” said Miss Miniver, “men are only incidents. You have made your public, you are already a personage. Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. ‘I try to be. It is a precaution merely. Now there is none. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. Instantly I knew that I was going to run away that night before he returned from the neighbouring island. . I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down.
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