Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. It begins with that queer piccolo solo. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. A fever of shame ran through her being.
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