“We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. She located her foster family. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. “Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. “She is living there now,” she remarked. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. “Oh, I can’t thank you. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it.
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