. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. ’” “What did he say?” “What does any one say to an invitation to dinner point-blank? One tries to collect one’s wits. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly. ” “I’m delighted,” she exclaimed. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace.
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