As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. He pulled on her shoulder, bringing her mouth to his in a kiss. " "I'm sure I'm very sorry.
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