"Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. Another long interval elapsed. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. ” “I will think of it,” she repeated. That is so awful.
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