“Just leave them with me for now, Clotilde. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. . I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. . " "No more of this," said Winifred, angrily. There was something very wrong. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. . She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold.
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