She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. “I do not even know who you are. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. You’re never going to believe this, by the way.
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